My Way Home
by AlanAlexHolc
Summary: Imagine this: it's Tmnt: Out of the Shadows all over again. You've got the turtles, Shredder, and Kraang and everyone else, but now there's a mystery girl caught in the mix. A girl who's wiped clean of her past, adventure and danger prone, has a major sailor's mouth, and a romantic interest in our blue banded leader. What do you make of it? Read to find out!
1. Chapter 1

Do you know what a nature freak is? You know, those over the top tree huggers, extreme environmentalists, and all of those goofy names for people you love nature? Although I don't label myself as one of those, I must say that I love the forest. I love the animals, the sounds, the colors, even the way the sunset streams through the canopy of fruitful branches. And at night, like now, the moon and stars gaze down upon me in a pale, heavenly glow. To me, the forest is a safe haven, a place to go and clear my mind. Honestly, who wouldn't love this place. It's like looking at God's masterpiece from a canvas painting.

Now that we've gotten that out of the way, let's push aside the formalities and get down to business here. I can't remember anything. It sounds crazy, but when I say I can't remember anything, I. Can't. Remember. Shit! Nothing from my past; not where I lived, my family, not even my own name. So when I woke up in the woods in the dead of night, you can imagine my surprise when all I could recall was the fact that I was alive and breathing.

I mean, wouldn't you be terrified if you were in my shoes? Waking up and finding yourself lost and alone in a goddamn forest. Alone, isolated, afraid. Alone aside from a few birds and squirrels peering down from their perches above my head. They seemed to wonder where I had come from, as if I had appeared out of thin air. Maybe I had. For hours I sat there, horrified and scared to death. Questions swirled in my cranium, mixing violently with anxiety and fear until I made myself sick. Literally. I hoped and prayed that someone would come for me, anyone who could tell me what had happened and rescue me from this unknown land. No one came.

Calming myself down wasn't an easy task, but once I did I rationalized that if I stayed there I wouldn't find the answers to my endless questions. I would never be found and never get back to my life, I'd I even had one. So, with much hesitation, I got up and started walking. I had no idea where I was (obviously) but from the light and temperature it was early morning and if I followed the sun, I would be heading east. How I know of such things, I couldn't tell you even if I wanted to.

It's been a number a days since then, two weeks if I had to guess. Fatigue drags at my feet and shoulders, so heavy it could be mistaken for a boulder strapped to my back. The urge to stop in my tracks and drop onto the floor like a slug and sleep for as long as I want has never been stronger, but like the sorry excuse of a trooper that I am I get a grip on my bag and cross over a bubbling creek.

I had found the bag next to me when I had woken up. Inside were a box of matches, crackers, beef jerky, a knife, and iodine, plus a few extra objects that confused me. One is a stuffed animal that vaguely reminds me of a hippo; it's orange body, purple head and arms, yellow snout, and black and white striped legs and tail are quite the oddities. Every time I go to bed, it watches over me with beetle black eyes and I think to myself, "Damn! Your hella ugly." It's definitely a weird looking thing, but cute in the sense of its plushness and vulnerability. The second object is a journal, and following after it is a black ball point pen. Honestly, it's nothing special with its plain black face and white lined pages, but inside are the precious thoughts and ideas I've written down for safekeeping. Hell! I'm writing in it right now! And the last and most bewildering object of them all is a silver ring. A minuscule, metal butterfly sits still on the loop of steel, strapped to the metal band. Its wings shine a dull blue shade of turquoise stone rimmed with pre-rusting steel. It's beautiful in terms of simplicity, but puzzling all the same.

For the hundredth time today, I ponder. For hours at a time, I grind into my brain for answers. Scraping the darkest, murkiest parts of my consciousness in a desperate quest for even the smallest hints of a memory of my past life like a lone miner digging for gold in an empty, dried out cave. But as usual, I come up empty handed, unless you count the throbbing headache I receive on every attempt.

God! This sucks!

I make my way around a thick tree and suddenly stop in my tracks. In front of me is a clearing. But not just any clearing. A space where the trees are gone and no grass blankets the ground, no dirt peeks out from bushes and said bushes are nowhere to be seen. All that remains is hardened, black tar. Asphalt. My heart quickens at the sight.

This is a road! A road that leads to somewhere. Somewhere where there are people, buildings, electricity, and proper toilets! Oh my god! A real toilet! And above all, it'll lead to a place I can get help. I can't stop the maniacal smile that crosses my face.

Oh my god oh my fucking god! I'm almost there! I'm almost there!

What was that?! A noise, a distant sort of mechanical noise. It grows louder with every second and turns into the sound of a revving vehicle, the roaring of an engine. I quickly step back, concealing myself in the shadows of a large bush.

_FWOOSH! _A flash goes past me, blowing leaves and hair into my face. Then another and another. This goes on for a bit, with every new swift movement picking up scattered leaves and wisps of hair. After a sixth one they seize, but not before they all slow down and park a few yards away. I crawl to them for a better look.

Spending God knows how long in a forest with nothing but a nearly empty bag and the clothes on your back can do funny things to a person. Like make you insanely curious enough to head right into a few mysterious figures without any consultation with common knowledge, basically knocking on death's door with a homemade "Welcome to the Neighborhood" cake. Yeah, sounds about right.

Peering through crocheted busy branches, I come upon a full six motorcycles with six men to accompany them. They all wear black leather suits and pitch black helmets. They talk amongst themselves in hushed whispers, unbeknownst to them that they have an audience aka _moi. _

A thought occurs to me when the glint of the motorized bikes shine in my peripherals. If I can get one of those bikes, I can finally get the hell out of here. My mind is already made up as I creep even closer to these strangers.

Talking my way into borrowing a bike from the group is out of the question. Not to sound paranoid or anything, but who knows what kind of people they are? They could be criminals, drug dealers, a mob, maybe even assassins. Even making my presence known could result with me half buried in a ditch somewhere, stone-cold dead.

Okay, that may be far-fetched, I'll admit. But still, it's viable.

"Baxter Stockman just messaged me. He said it's happening tonight." A voice says in front of me, emitting from one of the men looking at something on his wrist.

"Well, it's about time!" Another says, their voice much deeper, practically leeching with arrogance, as he leans on his motorcycle.

"According to Karai, their heading for Upstate New York. The others will meet us there." A woman's voice speaks up.

The silhouette of the second voice gives a nod.

"Alright. Let's head out." The first voice shouts out. All of the black clad people begin to mount their vehicles again, preparing to leave.

Warning bells go off in my head like a loud siren screaming in my ears. Whatever they're doing, it ain't good. That much is for certain. And that's coming from the lonely hermit in the woods. And this lonely hermit knows that whatever's going on here with these mysterious beings will not end with a happily ever after. But if I'm gonna get out of here, now's the time and place. My best chance to snag a bike from their little possé is when they're leaving.

Will I feel bad about doing this? If I'm being honest with myself, I probably will. But I have to do this. No matter who they are or what they're doing, I'm willing to do whatever it takes to get out of this living hell of a forest. Whatever it takes.

A few feet away, a single individual is having a bit of difficulty starting his engine. He curses as he jams and twists the key in and out of his ignition. Perfect. I head for him, crawling on my hands and knees and watching every step I make to stay as quiet as possible as I observe him through the shadows of the night.

_VROOM! _The machine finally comes to life and the owner looks pleased from what little I can tell from his helmeted head and the light of the moon. I crouch in the underbrush like a predator stalking their prey. My fingers brush against something cold, but I don't flinch away from it. Instead I grip the solid form in my hand and continue to watch. He lifts his leg over the seat and… _BOOM!_ I run out in the knick of time and jump at him, barreling into his side. We fall off the motorcycle together in a crumpled heap of limbs. I flip him over onto his stomach and wrap my arms around his neck, clutching my wrist in a chokehold. He gasps and struggles beneath me, slapping my arms helplessly as his legs kick behind me. But I hold him tight, squeezing his throat like a boa constrictor.

A boa constrictor?! A fucking boa constrictor?! How the fucking hell do I know what South American snake to relate to when I'm choking out some poor guy off the street yet I don't even know where the hell I am? Hilarious, if you ask me.

The man slowly begins to wither, the lack of oxygen entering and exiting from his lungs pushing him to the brink of unconsciousness. His strangled cries are too loud for my liking, but no one could have heard them anyway. His buddies are too far out of earshot to even grasp the slightest hint of a cry for help.

With a swift motion of my wrist, I yank off his helmet, puck his face into the hard asphalt below us, and smack the back of his head with the stone I earlier picked up. And just like that, it's over. He goes completely motionless, and ever so cautiously, I stand on my feet. He remains still. Almost too still. A spike of fear shoots into my chest until the even up and down of his chest reassures me that he's still alive. I push air out of my cheeks and run a hand through my scalp.

Damn! He's a fighter, and a hell of a good one, too. I'll give him that.

I hook my arms under his shoulders and grunt with exertion as I pull his heavy body off the road. I shuffle backwards blindly, my gaze focused on his boots dragging on the ground. I lay (more like flop) him into a pile of rotting leaves a few feet away from the road. Whoops!

Now that his helmet is gone, I can see his face. His features are plain, his skin pale as the moon. His jet black hair stands out against his light pigment as well as angry red marks throbbing on his neck from when I had strangled him.

Poor guy. Never knew what hit him.

Without a second thought, I turn on my heel and make my way to the running motorcycle. I swipe the man's shining helmet from the ground in mid stride and plop it onto my head. It shifts violently, proving to be way too big even when I adjust the chin strap. Nonetheless, I sit myself onto the worn leather seat of the bike, my legs vibrating against the purring engine. I glance back over to the man.

Forget what I said about second thoughts. A pang of guilt strikes my innards, churning like old butter in my stomach when I see his boot peek out over the bush I had hidden him under.

At least I didn't kill him, right? And when he wakes up, he'll at least be able to remember who he is and everything about his life that I don't have. Lucky.

And with that, I turn away, twist the handle of the bike and speed off in a blur of cloth and light.

Pop Quiz? From what you already know of me, do you think I know how to drive a motorcycle?

Answer: Absolutely not! Well, sort of… Okay. I have no idea. I don't know the first thing about driving a motorcycle along with a number of other things. I don't even know if I'm of age to even ride a motorcycle. But what I do know is that I haven't crashed and died yet in the past three minutes, so I guess it's safe to say that I'm good to go.

I race off through the road. My long hair flies back, knitting itself into a tangled mess. The wind whistles by as I fly at an incredible speed. A few pinpricks of red tail lights appear on the horizon through the gloom of night. They must be the other motorcycle people.

Wait! Do you think I'm… following them? Who? Me?! Oh, come on! You've gotta be shitting me. No, that's ridiculous. That's… that's stupid. And suicide. I would never in my life consider following a horde of people whom I had sneaked my way into by replacing one of their guys with myself. I mean that's… that's…

…

Ok, fine! Yes, I'm following them! Happy? Oh come one, it's for a good reason. If I were to just drive off, they'll definitely notice that they're a driver short and come after me. Then what? Besides, they're most likely heading into a town of some sort. I can get help there.

If you're wondering if that's a ps far as I've planned, you are absolutely correct. Brilliant. I know.

I accelerate until I'm in range of the others. One swivels their head to me in question and I throw a quick thumbs up. It must've worked because he nods and faces forward. I take a deep breath and move ahead.

Man, what have I gotten myself into?


	2. Chapter 2

We drive for what feels like forever. My ass is numb and we long since left the forest behind. If I had to guess, I'm pretty sure it's been a couple of hours since we began driving.

Yes, hours. H-O-U-R-S. A full sixty minutes. Now multiply that by three and what do you get? A tired teenage girl wishing she had stayed in the woods where she wasn't about to tumble off of a moving vehicle accelerating at high speeds.

I have no idea how I pulled it off, but the group of people I have joined haven't noticed that their little friend has gone missing and was replaced by, guess who? _Moi. _I'm just glad that I haven't swerved off the road and pummeled into something with my stolen bike. Yet, anyway. At least don't have to worry about running into trees or shrubbery because they're nowhere to be seen, cleared away for the large structures known as skyscrapers that reach for the endless inky sky, towering over me like giants. They gleam like massive silverfish in the numerous lights lining the busy streets. The city.

I gasp despite anyone or anything hearing me. I don't remember the last time I've seen the city. But then again, I don't remember much of anything.

The buildings jutt out of the ground, surrounded by the millions of cars honking and driving in the packed streets. People mill around on the sidewalk, oblivious to the magnificent light show right above their heads. The whole place hums with artificial life, almost electrifying. It's overwhelming.

I'm brought back to reality when we take a sudden left onto a deserted interstate. And unexpectedly, we approach a large entourage of cars. A number of black vehicles encircle a square black van with the letters NYPD painted in white on its sides.

The New York Police Department? Why are we following the New York Police Department?

Wait, how do I know that?

Oh, never mind.

I trek behind as the group of motorcycles weave through the formation of cars. They all pull out these strange round… things and pop them onto the bumpers then race to the front. I do the same, not knowing what else to do. Someone in the head of our little batch, I suppose is the leader, holds out a small device with a bright red button. He presses a thumb against it and I finally understand.

Bombs. They're fucking bombs!

"Holy sh-" I say before an explosion sounds off behind me.

_KA BOOM! _Time seems to slow as the ground rocks under our wheels. I look back to see the cars shoot up into the air, billowing with smoke and glowing purple and green fire. They crash back to earth hard, skidding to jarring halts, squealing and screeching against each other. Flames streak against the asphalt as the untouched van rams the fallen remains of their companions. I catch a few screams from the said vehicle, muffled through the thick walls.

Holy motherfucking shit! What the hell just happened?!

We drive by the damage that was done without a second look. The men on their bikes rev backwards and swarm the van like livid hornets. A few more of the gang's buddies join us, cruising in strange three-wheeled cars.

Is that what that woman from earlier meant by the others meeting them there? How did I not see them before?

Two men rise up from these newcomers and hop onto the sides of the van. Somehow, they miraculously stay on. Their knees and hands cemented to the metal.

What the fuck?! I did not, repeat, DID NOT sign up for… whatever the hell this is.

The men gradually climb to the roof of the vehicle and unhook containers strapped around their shoulders and begin to cut away at the steel with some kind of blow torch looking devices. Sparks fly in a blur of orange and yellow around their heads.

This is crazy! What did I get myself into?!

I adjust my grip on my handlebars in uncertainly.

What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?!

Stay? Leave? Stop?

Oh, this is so wrong. This is so very, very wrong.

_BA BA BA, BA BA BA BUM_! A loud horn goes off behind us and with a sharp turn of my head, it reveals to be a large garbage truck that has arrived at the scene.

Garbage... truck?

This night just keeps getting better and better.

The truck gains on us in no time at all, barreling towards us like it is on a warpath. Out of the corner of my eye, something narrow and shining peeks out of the passenger window of the NYPD van. I've never seen a shotgun before, but I know for a goddamn fact that that's what it is. I don't look away from the new arrivals even with the weapon aimed near me, especially when the grill of the garbage truck instantly slides open and-

_SHWOO! SHWOO!_

Startled, I duck my head and something fast blows by my neck. I look up just in time to see said something spiral in the air and bounce off the man prowling on the side of the van. He falls like a ton of bricks, hanging by his knees. The gun is swiped away from a pair of hands when the spinning object connects with it and the shotgun clatters to the ground. The man on the other side is another victim as he too vents backwards when he's hit, flailing awkwardly upside down. The two projectiles hit the ground with ringing, metallic thuds. I take the quickest of glances to see that they are, in fact, manhole covers.

FUCKING MANHOLE COVERS?! Oh, you've got to be shitting me!

"Get back there and take 'em out." The leader of this motorcycle raid shouts up ahead of me. The others nod their heads in unison and do a full 180, charging the truck head on. This time, I don't follow suit. There is a fine line between bravery and stupidity and I like to think that I'm smart enough to know which side I prefer to be on. Most of the time, at least.

I watch in awestruck as both cars and motorcycles alike attempt to take down the truck. The three wheelers drive close, showing off sharp weapons sticking out of their hub caps that could slice a human in half, let alone a fat tire.

They're toast for sure. I think worriedly.

Whoa there! Slow your role! Did I just admit to being concerned for these hotshots?

Hell no!

…

Yes, yes I did… shit!

But little did I know that it was for nothing because one second their poor wheels are on the verge of being shredded rubber, and the next, giant mechanical arms split out of the sides of the truck and bash the cars like tin cans.

My jaw drops open.

What the hell?!

Okay, I really need to stop asking myself that.

The machines wave around, swiveling like the arms of a toy robot. If I didn't know any better, I would say that they were dancing in victory. That is, they were right before they smashed into an overhead bridge with a big _BANG!_ Bits and pieces of rocks crumble down with hunks of rusted yellow metal, no longer jumping for joy. I grimace.

Whoops.

The motorcycles move in, substituting for their fallen comrades. One in particular slips out yet another one of those cylinder-like objects aka bombs and places it on the fender.

Oh no. Not again!

_Tik tik... BOOM! _Another explosion erupts at the head of the truck. Blue flames engulf the windshield in a canvas of violent hues. I can hear the occupants inside yelp in shock. But somehow, the vehicle holds its own, and without any major bikes trail behind the truck for another attack when something, actually someone, jumps out the back chute of the trash compactor. Spinning like a top, the figure punches out two bikers and hops on another in just one leap. Banging their head against the poor rider's helmet, the driver rolls away and the new passenger pops a wheelie, whooping and cheering gleefully as he stands on the seat and jumps right back into the garbage truck, the bike abandoned.

Wow. Just, wow...

Where the fuck did these people come from?

All the while, I hear something else, something distant and far off. But it's catching up and fast.

_whoop whoop Whoop Whoop WHOOP!_

A shadow casts upon us and wind pushes down as if forcing the air to press on me. I look up to see an oval body, two parallel steel legs, and a spinning blur. A helicopter. As if an army of cars and motorcycles isn't enough. Of course, it's not. For what purpose exactly, I still have no clue.

Does anyone else want to join our little party? How about the fucking Titanic!

The chopper hovers above the van like an overgrown buzzard. A rope lowers down with something round and dark at the end of it. My eyebrows bunch together in question.

What is that thing?

My question is answered as it attaches itself to the top of the car. Surprisingly, the two hitchhikers managed to get up straight and had finished their job of sawing away at the van's top. They lead the object in place and the chopper yanks upward.

It's a big ass magnet.

The backside of the van lifts off the ground and then…

_BONG!_

The top snaps right off and the car strikes back to earth, hard. The aircraft drifts away slightly as yet another rope drops down, now inside the vehicle. Not a second later, a man dressed in orange clings to the other end like a fish on a hook.

I realize that he's the main inhabitant of the NYPD. And in this case, he must be the criminal. A powerful, dangerous criminal. That would explain the armada of cars we blew up, the motorcycles fending off the garbage truck, and the last but certainly not least tactic, the helicopter to fish out the said criminal.

This isn't some surprise ambush. This is an escape, an orchestrated escape of a prison inmate, one in which requires maximum security. And I am in the smack dab middle of it.

Sweat prickles my back bone as this turn of events hits me.

This isn't good. This is not good!

A sudden flash of silver catapults outwards and slashes the rope holding the criminal in two. The man bumps into the roof and falls off to the back, hanging by his hands onto the van, but he composes himself rather quickly by reaching up and pulling himself to his feet. Goddamn! That was close.

During this whole escapade, I have been in a mild to extreme state of shock. Having been able to stay on my seat without any troubles at all is enough for me to say that I'm very much in one piece. But I'm still in this daze when the door of the van lashes open and a being tumbles out. Rolling like a tumbleweed, he grunts as he surges away from me. He later stops some yards behind me, his limbs bent at odd angles and motionless. He's unconscious. And right in the garbage truck's path!

I don't think, I just do. I veer in a sharp turn, my wheels squealing, and dash to his aid until I tower over him. I jump off the bike and grab his hands vigorously, pulling his deadweight with much difficulty. I push my feet into the ground, using all of my will power to move him inch by inch. The truck doesn't plan on stopping, and neither will I. I'm almost out of the way when the truck blares at me.

It's getting closer!

I try going faster, panting heavily with exertion. Just a few more feet.

The truck is now closing the gap between us at the speed of light. In a matter of seconds, we'll be pancakes!

With a final burst of energy, I haul the man off the street and we collapse. The truck rushes by in a giant blur of green and yellow, it's giant tires a full two inches away from cutting off my toes. It zooms off and away, and even when it's gone

I let out a shaky breath.

That… was… intense.

I sit for a second, my chest heaving, my hands shaking in my lap. I try to calm myself.

The garbage truck and van move so fast that in a matter of seconds they are nothing but blurry dots in the distance.

My eyes catch sight of my motorcycle. It lays on its side carelessly, gleaming in the light of a nearby lamppost. I throw off the helmet sitting askew on my head and stuff my face into my hands, not wanting to hear or see anything else.

This whole night has been nothing but an emotional, insane roller coaster. What with all of the cars, explosions, helicopters, robot arms. This is too much!

"Aaaaaaaaarrggghhh!" I scream out. I throw back my head as my voice raves out, screaming until my neck is sore and my throat is raw. I finally stop and slam my forehead into my knees.

This is way too goddamn much!

Peeking out of the corner of my eye, the man lays in a very uncomfortable position. But his breathing is loud and steady, although that doesn't mean he's not gonna suffer after some win jury unbeknownst to me.

He's lucky I was there to save him or else he would've been roadkill with me included.

I sigh heavily, closing my eyes and concentrating on the black behind my eyelids.

Too much. It's just too much.

"Excuse me, miss?" A sudden voice says above.

I jerk up and my eyes widen until they threaten to fall out of their sockets. Now parked in front of me, the garbage truck from earlier has returned. No longer bolting like a race car, it shows to be a lot bigger than I had expected.

How come I didn't hear it?

Oh, yeah. That's right. I was having a meltdown and therefore a little too preoccupied to notice a grown ass truck to pull up to the curb. And standing right in front of me, _right in front of me_, are four giant turtles.

That's it! I'm nuts!

They all stand on their back legs, looking to be almost 7 feet tall. 7 FEET TALL!

I'm seriously nuts!

All of them are broad and big, muscular. They wear ratty trousers with tons of padding and leather straps crossing their plastrons. Each is donned in a color-coded mask; red, orange, purple, and blue.

Totally nuts!

One leans down to my eye level. Their eyes a stunning shade of blue. His features are soft and caring. A kind smile graces his green lips.

"Are you alright?" He asks in a sweet voice. One could melt in his very presence with a voice like that.

And what do I do, you may ask? Do I swoon over those impossibly gorgeous eyes? Do I sigh at the tranquility and absolute smoothness of his masculine, hair-raisingly amazing voice?

Well, I… fucking lose it! I scream, screaming as loud as my throat can go while ripping a few vocal cords while I was at it. And I run, running as fast as my legs could carry me. With my arms pumping at my sides, I sprint in a blind fit. I can't hear anything behind me over my screams, but there is no doubt in my mind that they're staring after me in stunned silence.

Maybe they'll leave me alone. Maybe they'll leave me alone to race through the streets like a fucking psycho freak who just saw a quartet of giant turtles who just so happen to be attractive.

Leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone!

They're not running after me! I'm saved!

My feet suddenly go out and I'm hefted off the ground. A pair of arms struggle to contain me.

I stand corrected.

"NO! LET ME GO!" I shout as I furiously kick and pound my fists like an angry toddler against rock-hard muscle and bone, not caring if I'm making a scene. It doesn't matter what these… things think of me when I'm running away from them.

"Miss, calm down! Please!" The turtle creature says as he walks back.

Oh God. It's the handsome one. Why did it have to be him?

No! No. He's not handsome. He's not handsome. He couldn't be. He can't be!

It's just that… he's… he's… he's just a male!

Yeah! A male. A male in which I haven't met or seen sinceI've woken up and my raging teenage hormones are taking over my senses and convincing me that he _is _good looking.

Yeah. That's it. That's it!

I thrash in his strong embrace, twisting and squirming to be free, but he has other intentions. Rushed words pass through the four as we approach them. I don't dare look.

NO! This cannot be happening! This is crazy! I'm crazy!

The familiar feeling of pain somehow makes its way to my senses. Something sharp is stabbed into my flesh and a deep ache courses through my arm, a fluid as cold as ice. The moment it's there, it's gone. The adrenaline that once flowed through my veins is replaced with something sober, something heavy and chilled. My body, as if forced, relaxes and I suddenly feel tired. I am no longer strong enough to fight. My shrieks seize to a stop until I murmur strings of unintelligent sentences.

"No... please... let, go..." I say, my voice thick and slurred.

Ever so slowly, the large turtle loosens his grip on me and cradles me to his chest. My eyelids are now way too heavy for me to hold up. Through my bleary vision, I catch those dazzling blue orbs once again. So calming. So tranquil. So…

I never get to finish my thought as I am enveloped in darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

When I wake up, I feel warm and safe, wrapped in something fuzzy and toasty with delectable warmth.

Wait! What?!

I shoot up and swivel my head around in panic.

I've spent many nights in the woods and not once did I wake up feeling warm and safe. And that's because I'm no longer in the woods. Instead, I am in a squat, low ceiling room lined with old bricks.

What the- Where am I?

My eyes frantically scan every inch of my new surroundings. I lay on a thin cot, a patched quilt draped over my lower body. A steel chair sits close by, a dull shade of grey paint peels away at the legs. The walls are decorated in numerous drawings colored in with bright shades of orange and green. It's graffiti. Other than that, the room is bare of any other furniture.

How did I get here?

That's when I remember what had happened; leaving the woods, riding with a gang of motorcycles, witnessing an attempt to free a criminal, the garbage truck-

Oh my god! Now I remember.

I lay there for a bit, clutching my racing heart, mulling over all of the events from that night.

That night?! How long have I been out? Hours? Days? I have no idea.

All is silent, except for the soft pings of dripping water and a few voices.

Wait! Voices?!

Yep. Definitely voices. And not just one, but two. Maybe even more. They come from a wide, crescent exit that leaks with a bright, welcoming light.

Reluctantly, when I've built up the courage, I flip off the delicious warmth of the quilt and tiptoe my way to the voices.

Okay. I know what you're thinking; this'll be my second time jumping into something without any thought of the consequences. Okay, so maybe not my second time. Maybe it's my third… or fourth. Whatever! Who's counting, anyway. The point is that this isn't my first rodeo and certainly not my last.

A little reckless you say? Hell yeah! Am I proud of it? That's debatable p.

I guess it has something to do with me being, you know, lost. Not literally, although I still have no clue where I am. I just have this strange thirst for knowledge. My curiosity takes over every fiber of my being with every little something that comes along. Whether it's good or bad.

Oh god. I just went all spiritual mumbo jumbo on you, huh? Trust me, I didn't like it either. I gotta fix that.

I continue my journey forward when my jaw drops open at the strangest sight I've ever seen. Outside of the room I had confided in, is a completely different world. It's tall and wide, well over fifty feet and stands firm in a wide circle. Rusting pipes shine with water, crisscrossing over my head like a basket of writhing snakes. Million upon millions of drawings dance on the walls in an array of madness. Chandeliers, traffic lights, even Christmas light ups wink in a rainbow over the cinder block walls. The strangest things I have ever seen lay around me in a random pattern; a couch made of old pizza boxes, a corner that glows blue with the fluorescent lights of multiple screens alight. Another section is filled with neatly trimmed trees the size of house cats. Red lanterns stream above them. And the most interesting of all, a long concrete water slide flows into a wide pool of green water. I stare at it all.

What am I to think of it all? Do I think of this as art, junk, a mess? Or should I just drop the fact that it matters because loud words suddenly reach my ears?

I snap my attention to a crowded group of people huddled in front of a television screen. I duck behind a thankfully nearby pillar, hoping no one had seen me. When I hear no one coming after me, I peek out my head to see that they're still glued to each other, their gazes steadfast to whatever it is that's in front of them. Four large shells face me; one blue, one red, one orange, and one looking like a dismantled computer mixed with a toaster and somehow put back together.

The turtle people! So it wasn't a dream.

I curse under my breath as I step around the pillar and hide behind another, one that's closer to them. I can now decipher what they are saying.

"Come on. Show me something, buddy." A familiar voice says. I shiver.

That's the one who had tried to confront me and went after me when I tried to run off. The one I convinced myself isn't a hottie, even for a turtle.

Son of a bitch!

"Look there!" Another voice joins in. They all fall quiet. And for a second I think they've found me, but then they resume. I sneak a peek at them. The purple one says in a hushed whisper. "It looks like...residue from a teleportation event."

Teleportation what?!

"Yeah teleportation event residue, man. It's the worst." Another voice says, their tone inquiring more youth compared to the others so far.

"Does that kind of technology even exist?" A third voice says. His voice is gruff and harsh like it's grating against a rock, or he's just trying to imitate Batman. Either way, it's rough.

"Baxter Stockman's been working on this kind of technology for years." The purple one says matter of factly.

Baxter Stockman? Like, the motorcycle guys' Baxter Stockman? He's connected to these turtle people and somehow has something to do with teleportation. That's a little strange.

Yeah, that's the understatement of the entire goddamn century.

"Before the files were erased, I was able read a few emails on Baxter's iPad and it was just full of information about Shredder and the Foot Clan. It was like a virtual playbook." A feminine voice says.

My brows furrow in confusion. I don't remember there ever being a girl turtle. I slowly take a glance out and notice a woman standing by.

Is she a friend of these turtle people? She must be or else she wouldn't be talking to them so casually.

"Donnie, I need something. What do you have?" She asks as she turns to the purple one.

He lifts a single finger in thought and begins to rummage through numerous drawers. The turtle boys watch as he pulls out a black square.

"Fully plug-in-play." He says and presents the object.

Is that a flash drive?

The lady snatches it from his hand playfully. "Thanks, Donnie." She says, her voice fading as she makes her way to what has to be a large exit. The turtles trail behind her. I do, as well.

If the woman is leaving, I can follow her out when those turtle people aren't looking. It's a plan. Not a solid, foolproof plan, but a plan nonetheless.

I dash to the pizza box couch and crouch down, my back pressing into the grease-stained cardboard. Their footsteps come to a sudden halt and me being all too curious, I lean forward and find them all watching the woman turn back to them.

"The sun is up. You can't go outside, you'll be seen." She says. She looks at them with sympathy as each one reacts in their own different ways; the red one clenches his hands into fists until his knuckles turn white, the orange one's eyes finds great interest in his worn out shoes, the purple one fiddles with something in his hands uneasily, and the blue one stares upwards in a longing gaze.

I almost feel pity for them. Almost.

"Uh, who's that?" The woman suddenly asks.

I catch her staring at me and whirl myself around.

Fuck!

"What?" I hear the red one ask.

"There's someone behind your guy's couch." She says.

She's seen me. Shit! She's seen me. I need to leave. Now!

My eyes flick to and fro for a way out. The main exit is obviously out of the question along with the water slide. There are multiple tunnel entrances paneling the walls and I have no idea where they lead to, but it's something. And something is better than nothing.

"Oh! That's the other problem we were talking about." Purple's voice rings out.

Anger fires up within me and I suddenly feel the need to grind my teeth together.

Oh, so I'm a problem now? I'm not the one who was kidnapped by a bunch of giant ass turtles and brought to God knows where for God knows how long. I'm obviously nothing but an inconvenient weight on your shoulders, so I'll just excuse myself and get the hell out of here.

I jump up and run for it, sprinting away from these creatures.

"Get her!" I hear someone yell, but I don't look over my shoulder to see who it is exactly. It doesn't matter.

I aim myself for the room I had been in earlier and find an exit on the other side of the wall. I zoom through it and find myself in yet another bedroom. I don't have enough time to inspect it as I race out of there.

The floor shakes with the pounding footsteps behind me, sounding to be at least three pairs of feet. I don't slow down.

In front of me lies a tunnel. It glows with a gloomy, grey light and reeks of sewage, but it's a way out. And as I get closer, it gets brighter and bigger, as if calling to me. I follow it like a moth to a flame.

I'm gonna make it!

_BAM! _

Fuck! I'm not gonna make it!

A large mass lands right in front of me and I skid to a stop. The large red-banded turtle stands in front of me, the muscles in his biceps tighter than the string of a bow. He glares down at me with mossy green eyes, his lips curled into a snarl. If I wasn't so pumped up on adrenaline, I probably would've cowered under his frightening gaze. But I am, and nothing's going to stop me from getting the hell of this shithole.

I try to step around him as fast as I can, but he's too quick. He snags my arms and pushes me back, gripping my bicep with a large, three-fingered hand that could snap my bones in two. I slap at it fervently, but I might as well be hitting a brick wall because he doesn't flinch. He simply huffs and begins to pull me away from the tunnel.

No! I'm going to get out of here even if it kills me!

Desperate times call for desperate measures, and that's exactly what I plan to do. In a flash, I reach over and sink my teeth into the tough, leathery skin of the giant reptile's forearm. I bite down as hard as I can into the flesh until he shrieks out a pained cry and finally lets me go. I run past him and through the entryway and continue forward without ever looking back.

The red one's anguished cries bounce off of the brick walls.

"AAGH! She bit me! She actually bit me!" He shouts.

I don't dare to look back, although a little part of me wants to see the damage I had inflicted on him. But I know, regrettably, that he'll be fine.

I keep my eyes ahead of me as I round a corner, water spraying at my feet. Blood pounds in my ears, my arms swing by my sides, brown water flies at the back of my feet. And for a second, a strange, uplifting feeling sparks in my chest.

I'm almost out! I'm almost out!

"No you don't." An all too familiar voice says behind me and before I can even react, I'm thrown up into the air and slammed onto something hard. I yelp in surprise and see the garbage-riddled ground sway beneath me and a pair of large feet walking with a turtle shell facing me.

What the hell was that?

It takes me barely a second to realize that the blue one had not only caught me, but swung me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and was taking me back to whatever it is they call their headquarters. I kick and scream and bang my fists against his hard shell, writhing in his grasp. He simply adjusts his grip on me and treks through the tunnel entrance I had just left in my dust.

"Let go of me!" I shriek.

My legs strike his plastron until my toes are aching. My fists bang onto the hard surface of his shell until they bruise to purple and blue. I won't stop. I won't stop fighting until he lets me the fuck go.

Sooner than I realize, we are enveloped in the same yellow light from before and I'm flopped down unceremoniously onto a springy surface.

I'm back in the room.

I sit up and come face to face with all four of the turtles. The orange and purple one look at me curiously as if peering through the bars of a caged predator. The red one glowers, clutching his bleeding arm. And the blue one's brows furrow in a sort of frustrated manner, as if struggling to solve an impossible puzzle.

"What do you want with me?" I ask spitefully as if I'm spitting out poison.

They all share a look as if deciding who's going to speak up first. Of course, it ends up being the blue one. He kneels down and I scoot myself away from him slightly. He doesn't seem to care, or he's just really good at hiding his emotions.

"Listen. We know you're scared and a little shocked, but we're not going to hurt you." He says in that calming voice of his.

Yeah right, I think to myself bitterly.

"Yeah, but she sure likes to hurt us." The red one speaks up, his face contorting into a snarl.

"Leave her alone, Raph." The orange one piped up. "She's just scared." He shoots me a smile and waves childishly. I don't return it.

"Why did you bring me here?" I ask.

"We had to." The purple one says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"That doesn't explain why." I say back.

The blue one's sparkling ceruleum eyes flicker uncomfortably and his mouth turns into a thin line.

Did I say something wrong?

"Mikey, can you get Sensei to come in here? He's better at explaining it." Blues says after a moment of collecting himself. "And Donnie, can you tell April that she can leave? We can handle this." The orange and purple ones leave with curt nods and I'm left to stare at the two remaining strangers in awkward silence.I thrum my fingers against my thigh, the exertion from earlier draining out of me.

Don't get any ideas, reader! I'm not going to relax and let these bozos do anything to me. I'm going to get out of here… somehow. But now's not the time. If I were to attempt another escape they'd be ready for it and catch me quicker than last time. The only reason why I almost outran them those two times was because I had the upper hand with the element of surprise. I will not be given that opportunity again.

I'm not sure whether I should say something or remain silent. I'm dying to ask questions, but my pride gets the best of me and shuts me up.

In a few minutes tops, the two have returned and a shadow casts across the floor. Whoever this "Sensei" is, he's shorter than the reptiles who tower over me. When the one known as Sensei appears, my mouth drops wide open.

I'm right about him being shorter, but that's where my assumptions end. The creature that stands before me is covered in long grey and mousy brown fur, swathed in an ancient robe with his slender, bony hands clasped in front of him, his claws grazing over the hairs of his knuckles. His large, black eyes gaze at me as his giant worm-like tail drags behind him. A smile tugs at his snout and he hums to himself, stroking the thin beard trailing from his chin.

My heart nearly stops.

Okay, I may have seen an attempted escape of a criminal and four walking, talking turtles. But now this! A giant rat man!

Blue dots appear out of the corner of my eyes and I realize that I've stopped breathing. I try to force air into my lungs, but it's as if someone had stuffed my throat with cotton. I continue to gawk at the rat man all the while struggling to breath and not scream.

"Do not be frightened." The rat man says in a serene, male voice.

Frightened?! I am beyond frightened! I am above and beyond frightened! If there was a word that could express the turmoil ripping my innards to hysteria, I'd use it. But as of now, I sit there like a deer in the headlights.

He takes a step closer and I quickly huddle back, crowding myself into the corner of the bedpost. He stops in his tracks as he notices that his words did little to calm me. So he remains where he is, black eyes gleaming.

"Dear child." He says. "As you can see we are not ordinary creatures, but if you will take my word and trust in it, you will know that we do not mean you any harm."

At this, I look him square in the eye and can't help thinking that maybe he's right. If these people wanted to hurt me they already would have. And if they didn't want me or had something to offer, they wouldn't have come back for me that night on the interstate. They would've just abandoned me, left me alone to try and forget what I had seen and go about my day as if I hadn't nearly got run over by a garbage truck for saving an unconscious man's life.

Without my consultation, my cheeks burn up.

Dammit! I feel like an idiot. God, how could I be so fucking stupid?

These people have been nothing but polite (short of it, actually) and all I've been is a pain in the ass (again, short of it.). Slowly, I uncurl myself from the corner of the bed, showing them that I am willing to listen.

I still may not trust these strangers, but I will no longer act out the way I have been. In other words, I won't try to run away, punch, kick, scream, or bite.

"Thank you, child." The rat man says. "May we express our gratitude in exchange for your cooperation, if I may so boldly ask?"

I nod my head, mainly because I don't know what else to do, and let the rat man continue.

"I hope you do not mind if I enlighten you with why and how we came to be so that you will be able to understand our current situation." Says him.

I shrug my shoulders.

As you know, ever since the rat man came in I haven't been able to speak a single word. Even if I wanted to speak, which I do, I know for a fact that I can't. Perhaps it's because of my initial shock from when he had entered and my little dilemma with my lungs. That's the only logical reason I can think of, so it has to be it.

"May I begin?" The rat man asks. I don't answer right away, but my mind is made up.

Remember what I told you about how my curiosity gets the better of me? How my taste for adventure and life threatening situations gets me into pickles nearly impossible to break out of? Well, this is one of those times. The second he mentioned the word "understand", I was all for the idea of being told of "how they came to be". Although I can't understand anything and everything that happened to me in the past couple of weeks, I could at least know what happened to them. And it's better than nothing, right?


	4. Chapter 4

Picture this; you're in an underground compound located under New York City surrounded by large, mutant creatures with lethal weapons and there's no way out. What do you do?

Well, I don't know about you, but I honestly have no idea what I would do. But the thing is, that's exactly what's happened. I am literally in an underground compound located under New York City surrounded by large, mutant creatures with lethal weapons and there is literally no way out. Shocker. I know.

Like any reasonable person, of course, I tried to run for it. Some people would advise me otherwise, but I wasn't thinking straight and being the sorry excuse of a survivor and daredevil, running away as if there was even the slightest possibility of escaping sounded good enough to me.

And here's a little pager-turner for you: I got caught. Yep. I was snagged like a rabbit and tossed back to where the strange creatures had put me before I could even get twenty-feet away. Surprising, ain't it? And then I came face-to-face with yet another startling scene: a giant rat man with a goatee came in and actually tried to console me.

Of all the times and places and of all the people in the fucking universe, it was me who had to confront reality and give in to the will of these complete strangers. It was me who had to suffer this kind of trauma (if you could even cal, it that) and deal with it. Why me of all people, I don't know.

Do you ever feel like the universe is just conspiring against you just to make you feel like a total insane freak? Thinking that it's some sort of sick joke? If yes, well then good for you. You have a slight understanding of how great of an impact this is having on my already all too complex life. But if not, you cannot possibly imagine it.

Within the past hour I've learned more about these turtle people than I could ever learn in a classroom, which isn't exactly saying anything. I'm not sure if I should describe it with a long, drawn out monologue filled with the action-packed adventures of these mutants and later find it interesting. I know I wouldn't. So I'll try and paraphrase.

Approximately sixteen years ago, there was a group of scientists who were creating some kind of chemical fluid that could eradicate dangerous toxins on a wide scale. They tested this "ooze" on four baby box turtles and a lab rat. Later on, one of the scientists discovered the true purpose of this project and tried to destroy it. Lab went up in flames, scientist dies, and the rest of the subjects are supposedly destroyed. However, no one knew that a certain young girl was there to save them.

Years go by and the animals become intelligent, grow at a significant rate with supernatural abilities, become skilled in the art of ninjutsu, and band together as a secret group of vigilantes in the sewers of the Big Apple.

Then comes the aftermath. The girl who had saved the test subjects once upon a time, who I now know as April O'Neil, became a news reporter. Becoming a journalist, as I'm told she had always wanted, also gave her the natural abilities such as an observant eye and nosy habits to track down certain stories for her to share to her designated news company. Yet I'm pretty sure that when she signed up for the job she wasn't expecting to find four mutant turtles saving the city, let alone have a history with them. And as luck would have it, she even had contact with the man who conducted the deceased experiment a decade and a half ago, Eric Sacks who also, with deeper intel, was working with the notorious Shredder to dominate the city and become some rich, savior-like hero.

Long story short, the turtle gang were accidentally discovered then captured by Shredder's army, The Foot Clan, but escaped, fought the Shredder and Sacks and saved New York City from the horrors and evil of the duo.

Interesting, isn't it? Sounds more like some kind of fairytale or plot of an action movie, if you ask me. But seeing how serious the situation was, I'm reassured that it was, indeed, very true.

That was a year ago. The Shredder and his little Sacks buddy were behind bars, the Foot Clan was supposedly gone, and everything was just fine and dandy.

That is until a scientist, Baxter Stockman, started to act a little weird. You know, weirder than usual for a nerd shirt of a grown man. With the help of the turtles, April O'Neil somehow found him and managed to get private information from his tablet. And, drumroll please… Stockman was helping the Foot free the Shredder from prison. And they were going to do so when the police decided to move the once high and mighty criminal to another prison across the state.

And that's where I came in. As the police forces guarded their precious captive in their convoy, I unknowingly joined a group of Shredder's gang that was sent to disrupt the polices' plan of action. I'm pretty sure you know the rest.

And as I sit here on this lumpy cot, every word sinking in like stones, the world suddenly begins to shift as if some greater force had switched some giant lever and a bulb goes off over my head.

Wait. So that's why…

Oh! I get it now! They've taken me here because I wasn't supposed to see anything on that interstate, including themselves. Because I am a key witness to this phenomenal event.

"Do you understand now, my child, why we had to bring you to our home?" The rat, Sensei, asks of me.

I nod slightly, eyes glued to my lap.

"Good." He says in his serene voice. "Now, we are going to ask you a few questions relating to the events of that night. All we ask of you is that you answer with honesty. It would bring us much joy to understand your current circumstances which led you into our lives."

I force myself to look up at their gazes, each ranging from child-like curiosity to pure daggers.

If it's answers they want, it's answers they'll get.

"As you may know, you look to be a little young to be a part of the Foot Clan, and way too young to be in a mission of such high standards." The turtle donned in purple says smartly, as if he had recited his speech from a text. "So how exactly did you wind up with the Foot?"

I open my mouth to answer only to shut it close.

How do I answer a question like that? How could I possibly answer something like that? With the truth? Yeah, I think I'll pass.

Do you have any idea how crazy I'll sound when I tell them my side of the story? They'll be running for the hills if they knew what I'd been through. But then I realize something that's like a slap to the face: Hell! What do I care what they think? If anything, they're just as crazy as I am.

I answer the mutant's question as if I had sworn over a bible. With the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. "Well, you see." I start. "I was walking through the woods when I saw the Foot with their motorcycles. I jumped one and stole his bike and rode with them to the city. That's when I saw them ambush the police. Then you guys came in and I'm pretty sure you can speak for yourselves what happened next."

The moment I finish is the moment the room floods with silence. You could hear a pin drop and it would sound like a horror-filled scream. Every eye is on me, each speculating me closely as if they think that if they blink, I'll disappear in a cloud of vapor. Or should I say it's my statement that they're so puzzled about. I can't really blame them, though.

"You can't be serious." The hulking crimson-banded reptile remarks, his gruff voice grating against his vocal chords.

"Well, sorry Red but I'm telling the truth." I return a little more heatedly than intended.

"Oh, are you?" He steps up threateningly.

"Oh, yes I am." I say back, a venomous bite playing dangerously on my lips. The veins in his neck dilate intensely until tight, pulsing strings of flesh weave around his throat like a rope.

Apparently, there is an invisible line drawn into the light dust coating the cemented ground that borders Mr. Macho Turtle's anger. And for the past hour or so I have been lightly nudging it, testing its strength and will to fend off my childish efforts. But I had just crossed it.

Do I feel a little intimidated by this giant mass of pure muscle and fury with a sassy mouth and moss green eyes? Hell no! I may not be able to take him down with my fists, but if there's one thing I know it's sarcasm. And that's one thing I know for a fact I can beat him at.

"Lay off, Raph." The blue one warns, hand raised slightly as if to ward off his fiery brother from lunging at me. And as if forcing himself, Raph shuffles back until he's cloaked in shadows. I smile at him smugly, resulting in a low growl emitting from his entwined throat.

Sensei aka Splinter clears his throat loudly, grabbing everyone's attention successfully. "Shall we please focus on the task at hand?" He asks. It's more of a command rather than a question.

I don't have time to nod my head before I'm fired with yet another question.

"Listen, kid." The leader of the group, Leonardo, states. "We'd appreciate it if you were just honest with us. You could help us with whatever happened out there." He finishes in a calm, orderly manner. But his tranquil facade does little to nothing to prevent a sudden inferno of disbelief from arising inside of me.

"You think I'm lying?!" I ask defensively. Their averted gazes is enough of an answer I need to continue. "Oh-hoh-ho, I see how it is. Little girl walks into your lives and suddenly ruins your operation that was going oh so well. And to add to the pile of inconveniences, after trying to stop the Shredder from escaping, the little girl decides to lie to your faces just for the fun of it. Bullshit!" I bellow. "Why the hell would I need to lie to you guys? It's not like I have anything to hide."

"But we don't know that." Blue counters, straining to keep his cool. "We don't know anything about you. For all we know you could be a spy of some sorts."

"Aren't you the ones who said I'm too young to be working for the Foot Clan?" I ask quickly before he could come up with some cheap excuse. "Show a little trust, why don't ya?"

"Oh, right! Like you did when we tried to talk to you on the interstate." Blue retorts angrily. "Or how about just a second ago when you were running into the sewers with no idea of where you were going all because we brought you here? That's trust right there, huh?" His voice raises a full octave so that I can practically feel his words vibrate through my chest. I look away immediately.

Fuck! He's good. Not only is he able to put his words to their full use, but I can't argue with that logic. I can't respond with a snarky comment that'll downgrade that statement, no matter how much I want to. And that's what angers me the most.

"I'm not lying!" I nearly scream out.

"Calm down!" Splinter commands. I don't feel like causing another dispute with their sensei since I already caused enough trouble within the past five minutes, so I oblige. "We are going to walk through what the girl means until we fully understand what she has told us. Without any arguments. Is that clear?" Splinter instructs, stressing each syllable to make sure we catch on that he is at the edge of his boiling annoyance. The turtles simultaneously bow lowly with a light sigh that sounds along the lines of "hai".

"Good." He pronounces. "Now, Donatello. I believe you wish to ask a few more questions of our guest."

The purple one, Donatello, nervously trudges up, fiddling with what has to be a remote control wrapped around his wrist. I don't have to be a technological genius to notice that this one's the brains of the group. "S-So, why were you in the woods?" He manages to say.

"I-" I stop for a second, mouth suddenly running dry.

Of course he had to ask that question. That one single phrase out of millions he could've asked, should've asked, he had to choose that one.

I clutch the hem of my hoodie, hating the way heat rushes out of my cheeks and travels to my feet, becoming as heavy as lead. "I… I don't know." I squeak sheepishly. I mentally kick myself at my voice cracking, digging my fingernails deeper into the thin fabric.

"What do you mean you don't know?" The orange one pipes up. It's the first time he's spoken in the past hour. I'm right about him being younger than his fellow mutant brothers, he definitely looks like it. He's the shortest and smallest of the bunch, his radiant baby blue eyes a beacon of light in the shallow darkness. Out of all the turtles, I can tell that he's the most sympathetic one of them all, putting aside his sensei. He watches me with the utmost curiosity, his gaze shining and trusting like pools of diamonds.

"What I mean is that I don't know."


	5. Chapter 5

"How can you not know?" The blue-banded turtle asks ludicrously.

Trust me when I say that I of all people wanted to know the answer to that question. If you don't think that I haven't asked myself that at least once or a million times, then whoever is reading this might as well wrap this up right about now.

I scoff aloud, "Gee, I don't know. But what I do know is that one day I wake up in the middle of fucking nowhere and that I can't remember anything before that. Okay?"

"Okay. One, language." Leonardo inquires. "And two, have you tried recalling any memories, anything at all?"

Wow. Just... wow. This guy must be a detective if he's smart enough to come up with the most obnoxiously obvious idea ever. Where's the badge, oh fearless leader?

"Wow. What a splendid idea. Don't know how I didn't think of that." I grin cheekily, knowing full well that my snarky comment will trigger a headache of annoyance for someone, if not myself. "What do you think?"

The group of mutants share glances, expressing wary looks as if simultaneously thinking that bringing this mysterious girl to their lair wasn't the greatest of ideas. Like before, I really can't blame them. If I wasn't me at that moment and I met some nutcase off the road who told me the exact same thing, I'd probably consider taking them to the nearest asylum to be hospitalized. But I am me. And there's really nothing I can do about it, now can I?

"Can you elaborate?" The purple one, er-Donnie, asks.

"How exactly do you expect me to elaborate with something like that?"

"At least try, my child. We are interested in how this galvanic event inflicted upon you and for what purpose. We wish to understand how and why this has occurred to you, as you do." Splinter soothes in a tranquil tone. His features remain placid, clear of any signs of distaste or confusion, unlike the reptilian brothers.

Who does he think he is, my therapist? Why does he talk to me as if I'm worth listening to? What does he care that I'm a girl with nothing to occupy her brain with but questions of the past and paranoid thoughts?

And he says they want to help me understand why this has happened to me. Why would they ever want to help me? Why in all hell would they ever be interested in helping an oh-so unfortunate soul such as myself just for the greater good? It makes absolutely no sense.

Unless... they want something in return. Some sort of trophy to hang up in their living room in mockery of my stubborn self for finally giving in to asking for their assistance. Like a damsel in distress waiting for her knights in shining armor to ride in on their valiant steeds.

Might as well tell them to go to burn in hell because there is no way that's going to happen. Over my dead body would I ever ask for their help. Besides, what could I possibly have to offer them? The small shred of dignity I've managed to hold on to with an iron fist for the past few weeks? Even if that's an option, which it isn't, it's either a too small or a too pitiful of a reward for this band of turtles and their master.

"Yeah, no. I think I'll pass." I say, planting my hands on the rickety mattress defiantly as I stand to my feet. "You guys look like you're busy enough with the Shredder and the whole Foot Clan thing, or whatever, to have my problems be yet just another burden on your already weary shoulders. So I'll just mozzie on out of here and be on my merry way." I finish, reaching over to grab my bag from the foot of the bed. Except I don't grab my bag. Instead, I grab air. I turn to the spot where I could've sworn I last saw it and see my hand hover above the bare spot, the crumpled sheets the only thing to greet my outstretched fingers.

No. Nonononononono. I need that bag. That stupid, raggedy sorry excuse of a backpack held everything I owned and held dear. If I don't get that goddamn bag and leave this place, then I really have nothing.

"Looking for something." The gruff voice of the Red Wonder sounds off. I swivel my head so sharp to the hulk of a mutant my neck gives a soft crack to see my one and only possession dangle from his thick finger, the owner grinning smugly at my bewildered expression. Without any consent with comman sense, I march my way to him until we're inches apart. I stare up at him, eyes ablaze and livid as they penetrate his green orbs.

Although I've fought off multiple animals on a wide scale, from a full-grown fox to a premature black bear back in the woods, they're nothing compared to the mountain of muscle and bone before me. I barely reach halfway up his plastron due to my lack of height, so he may have had the advantage in the death glare competition we've taken part in. But he doesn't know what I'm capable of. I've done things he can't even comprehend, things that would give him nightmares for days. But then again, I don't know what he's capable of, either. And it's because of this absence of knowledge that forces me to back down. Of course, that's after Mr. Leader-in-Blue pushes us apart. The only reason why I oblige to the large turtle's actions is because I catch a glimpse of the dripping wound on the other reptile's arm, the red liquid staining the skin. I might've felt guilt if I wasn't already pent up on anger.

"Give it back," I hiss the words through clenched teeth.

"Not until you tell us everything you know, short stack," Red responds menacingly, swinging the bag back and forth from its tattered strap. At that moment, I never wanted to put my fist into someone's face more than anything in the world. And I would've too, if it wasn't for Blue crossing his arm in front my shoulders, preventing me from pouncing onto his asshole of a brother.

"Listen, kid. We just want to help." The orange one pipes in. Stepping forward, he fully comes into the dull ring of light that shines through a musty lightbulb dangling off of a thin string. Baby blue eyes sparkling like moonstones, boyish facial features soft and round with adolescence. He reminds me of a wide-eyed child watching a dangerous beast stalk its prey at the zoo, terrified by my presence.

Is that what he thinks of me? That I'm some untamed predator blind with arrogance and instinct? That my very presence strikes fear in his heart?

It's with this notion that I let my anger drain from my body and allow Blue Boy to lead me back to the bed, muttering a "fine" through pouting lips as I shove my fists into the one pocket of my hoodie.

"Okay." Donnie draws out. "So, when you said that you woke up in the middle of nowhere, where exactly were you?" He asks, continuously fiddling with a small device in his hands. Long, strategic fingers moving rapidly but neatly over the bits and pieces of metal and plastic. A practiced habit of his.

I take a deep breath, calming my racing heart as the adrenaline in my veins slows to a sluggish pace before I open my mouth once again. "I... found myself in the woods. There weren't any signs of civilization anywhere, at least in all the miles I walked." I state.

I might as well be blunt with the quartet. They were honest with me when giving me their backstory, so really what's the harm in it?

Of course, they could've lied about it. Because, God forbid, I'd have any use of the glorious details of their missions. Maybe they think that it's better to not trust me at all. They could've made all that stuff up about saving New York and everything from their exciting adventures from the past few years just to keep their sheltered lives a secret. But it's hard to agree with my suspicions when their very appearances are proof enough for such fantastical journeys.

"Wait. If you were in the forest all alone, like you said, then how are you here?" Questions Donnie.

"How do you mean?" I ask.

"It's just... how did you survive? You said you walked for miles on end and the forest isn't even close to the city, let alone New York City. It must've taken you an awful long time to reach the interstate and find your way into a group of Foot."

Like I predicted, he has the brains. Thinking of something like that off the top of his head is impressive. I can't even think that fast, which really isn't saying much.

Hey, I'll be honest. I ain't exactly the sharpest tool in the shed.

"You see that bag." I point to the pathetic lump of cloth and stitched yarn I so carelessly call a "bag". They all turn to look at it, disgust evident. The looks on their faces are the result of the idea that my bag is nothing but a piece of garbage.

I'm not saying that I disagree with them, but... well, actually it is garbage. Rusty zipper broken in two places, numerous holes punctured through the decaying fabric, stains riddling every inch possible of the backpack. If there's one word to describe it, it would be "trash". But it's been with me through everything. Supplied me food when I was hungry, was my pillow when I slept, even helped me with a hidden pouch containing bandages when I had scraped my calf and was on the verge of infection. I guess you could say that I had grown attached.

"When I had woken up, it was right next to me. It had everything I needed to survive out there. Food wise, anyway. And may I _please_ have it back." I plead, hating the way my voice rings out in a somewhat desperate tone. Red gives the backpack a stride and tosses it into the air at a high arc. I catch it with ease and tuck it under my arms protectively.

"Who gave you the bag?" Donnie asks, speculating the backpack with a look in his hazel eyes that could be mistaken for looking at an opened bag of trash, spewing its rotting, putrid contents all over the floor.

"I don't know that either. It was just... there. Maybe someone put it there, maybe not."

"And how long were you out there for?" Donnie returns, a crease appearing in the space between his eyes.

"I'm not sure. I want to say at least two weeks." I answer.

"Two weeks?!" Orange asks like I'd said the most unthinkable thing his ears have ever heard.

"Yeah, I guess."

"How's that possible?" Donnie asked, sitting on the edge of his seat, resting his elbows on his knees. "There have to be at least a couple dozen different species of predators and wild animals out there. So if you managed to go weeks on end through the woods with only food essentials, how did you make it past the animals?"

"I either avoided them or, if necessary, fought them off."

"Yeah, right." Red huffs.

"What was that?" I snap, bitterness clear as day on my lips.

"Oh, nothing." He says louder, raising his hands up in surrender as if to look in innocent.

"Wanna say that out loud, dipshit?" I demand, voice rising dangerously, crossing that same line that continued to border his fiery rage. I sit on the edge of the cot, my fists dying to swing at his snobbishly smug face.

"Well, um..." Donnie ventures, clasping his hands together in a business-like manner to put an end to the oncoming dispute. I return my attention to him, but his unfocused gaze and flickering eyes reveal his anxious nature that peeks out every so often when he looks at me. No matter how hard he tries to hide it, it always seems to find a way to make its presence known. "It's just... hard to believe that someone of your age and stature would be able to fight off an animal like a bear or something."

Of fucking course they wouldn't believe me. What's it going to take for them to at least put a little faith that I'm not totally insane, or even being honest with them? It's not like I need to write an autobiography to convince them that I'm telling the truth. Maybe I do.

"The body will do anything to survive." i reply without any explanation. Silence fills the room, flooding the air like a poisonous gas until it's nearly suffocating. The only sound that doesn't shy away from its volume is the distant dripping of water and our adjoined heartbeats synchronizing in a chorus of lively thrumming.

"We need to talk. In private." Blue announces, commanding the others with his orders. Everyone gets up and leaves to do as he said. Two, Orange and Donnie, return withering gazes when they catch sight of my staring, unsure of themselves on how to treat the new girl who may as well a crazy person. The other, most likely older, two either don't care to look back or can't stand to show a little sympathy towards their guest. Only Splinter expresses unquestioning confidence in his small smile, practically leaching with kindness and strength in his core values, whatever they are.

It makes me sick. How can someone be so certain in what he believes or thinks, unfazed by the opinions of those around him? He's older, and thus much wiser and from the years of parenting the four teenage reptiles, most definitely much more empathetic and patient. I guess that explains it, right? If there was a competition for the quality of their character in regard to the affinity of compassion, Splinter would win by a land slide.

Then comes the waiting. What had to be about ten to fifteen minutes felt like hours, as if some greater power above had decided to toy with me and stretch the seconds in every minute of every hour and take its sweet time letting it go. Almost like pulling taffy, if you think about it. The hushed whispers that echo off the walls not too far away are the only thing to keep me company along with the never ending doubts that bob in my head like wreckage at sea after a treacherous storm. I consider running for it again, but by how they take turns looking back at me every 30 seconds proves that if I did try to run away again, they would be ready for it.

The second they come I back,I straighten up myself in anticipation, expecting that they had come to a conclusion on... wait. What were they discussing? what had they been talking about that whole time? What they thought about me and my extravagant quest through the not-so-enchanted forest? Or was it how to serve me after realizing I was not as mad as they thought me to be?

If you can't tell, I'm being sarcastic. Which is one way to boost my confidence for the sake of my sanity. Also, you should be used to it by now, huh?

And as you might've already guessed, Big Blue is the first to speak. "We've decided to house you here until we find out who you are and what happened to you. That way we can keep an eye on you as well as help you with your current situation. But in return, you have to cooperate with us."

Wait! What?

"What do you mean you've decided to house me?" I ask.

"What we mean is that we'll keep you here until we figure out how you came to be in the forest and why you can't remember anything. Or that you're not some spy of the Foot Clan." Says the leader, crossing his taunt arms over his broad chest.

"So... you're just going to keep me here? Without my consent, at all?" It's more like a statement than a question. They all blink repeatedly as if they've come to realize that they did not, in fact, ask me permission to stay. Or even if I wanted to stay at all. "So... what? Am I like your prisoner now or something? I mean, there's really nothing I can do to help you guys, so why keep me here any longer than I need to be?"

"Because... where would you go?" Orange asks. I blink at him in surprise. "You said you can't remember anything before the woods, so how would you know where to find your family and home? Where would you stay?"

That... that was unexpected. Throughout this entire conversation going back and forth, fighting for dominance with the older turtles, the smaller mutant had only thought of me and my well being. How I was totally lost and alone with nowhere left to go but the streets of a city I didn't know. With nowhere left to turn to seek out my home and family, if I even had one. He's right, and that's what makes me frustrated. He's right and the fact that he is means that this is the only place that'll be willing to shelter a homeless girl with no history.

Dammit! This fucking bites!

"And if your just pulling our leg with your little story that you're a helpless little girl in need of assistance, you won't be leaving here anytime soon to return to your master." Blue finishes, watching me with an intense glare.

You've got to be kidding me. They still think that I'm some secret agent that belongs to a clan that I've never even heard of and assume that I'd mixed myself with this group of mutant vigilantes to report back with valuable information to bring the turtles to their demise. As if.

I sigh, dragging a hand across the grimy skin of my cheek.

As much as I want to argue with them that I'm not some sleazy secret agent for the notorious Shredder, the only way to actually convince them otherwise is to collaborate and prove to them all that I really am a mindless kid without a past.

God! This is going to suck!

"Fine." I state after a minute or two to contemplate my thoughts.

"Thank you." Says Splinter, giving a slight bow of his head. "Now, while you're here we will have to keep a close eye on you to monitor your behavior throughout the day. And we'll also need to set up living arrangements, as well."

Great. Just great.

—

An hour later, I'm sitting in the same bedroom dining on a sandwich and a small bag of chips for a meal. I nibble on the dry crust, begrudgingly grateful for actual sustenance. It's a hell of a lot better than the dried out sticks of meat and stale crackers I've been consuming for the past few weeks.

I'll admit, it's nice to finally have a space to myself. Definitely an upgrade from sleeping under the stars in the cold nights, tree roots and grass and dirt the closest thing I had to a bed. But at least I was free. At least I had the liberty of going where I wanted to go. Meanwhile, here I'm being watched like some criminal who was charged for murder. Here, I'm trapped.

What's that fairytale about the girl held captive by a beast who was really a cursed price? Beauty and the Beast, right? I suppose you could relate this situation to that. But there's a few kinks that you'd have to change. Actually, there's several.

First of all, I am definitely no beauty. From what I've gathered from a fraction of a second in a small mirror and refracted reflections in pools of w, I'am a total disaster. Hair a rat's nest, face smudged in a layer of dirt and sweat; bruised, scarred, and sickly thin under the bundle of cloths donning my body. I am anything but beauty.

Second, this isn't a palace. Not by a long shot. This is a sewer filled with the most random pieces of furniture and junk anyone could gather. It isn't an establishment for elegant dinners and parties where women and men dress up in their finest outfits and dance around and drink champagne till midnight. Again, this is a sewer. A secret headquarters for an unknown band of supposedly deceased test subjects. Nothing more.

Also, these strange creatures I've known not even for a day are most certainly not pristine princes in disguise. They're warriors with the bodies of a combination of man and turtle. Trained ninjas whose sole responsibility is to protect others from the wrath of those who cause harm and pain to the innocent.

And finally and most importantly, if I might add, this isn't a fairytale. This isn't some fantasy where princesses are saved by charming knights and princes from fire breathing dragons and live happily ever after in a splendid castle for the rest of their pathetic lives. This is real life, and life isn't some cartoon musical where you sing a little song and all of your insipid dreams magically come true. So, dear reader, let it go.

And by the way, don't be getting any ideas. I'm going to get out of there. I'm going to get out of this underground compound even if it kills me. Just because these strangers are patient with me, told me their side of the story as a demonstration of trust, and even offered me a place to stay (more liked forced, if you ask me), I don't trust them. Just like how they don't fully trust me. I don't believe for a second that they're going to help me solve this mystery of who I am and where I'd come from. They most likely said that just to give reason for me stay down here, waiting for me to crack and give in to telling them everything I know about Shredder and Baxter's future plans, which is literally nothing.

So until I have the chance, I'll obey their requests and stay. But the second—no scratch that—the millisecond there's even the slightest of openings, I will book it. I will run so fast no one will be able to catch, not even the incredibly athletic Blue Wonder. Whatever it takes, I will escape.


	6. Chapter 6

Tigress was no acrobat. She never got trained or tested to see if she would be qualified for joining some side show or circus. And after a lifetime of torment in a roadside zoo that was secretly cross breeding animals illegally, the zookeepers thought it best to let the tiger live the rest of her life free from public entertainment aside from educational and safety purposes. Yet for as long as she could remember, she was athletic. It was more or less from natural resources rather than her staying in shape by herself, although she did make it a priority to workout when she could for the sake of good health. Yet it was all thanks to Mother Nature for her physique. She was also gifted with flexibility and impeccable strength. So it was no surprise to anyone when she effortlessly jumped over the high brick wall of the Central Park Zoo.

She did a full front flip in a high arch and landed on all fours on the other side of the wall. Her stomach clenched painfully, a thrilling sensation she was not quite familiar with, and it wasn't from the supposed leap of faith. It was excitement. She had never done this before. Never before had she snuck out of a facility that prevented animals—such as herself—to leave their pens, especially her own home. There was absolutely no need for it. She had everything she could ever need and want served to her on a silver platter, pampered and spoiled from the day she came in and for the rest of her life. She was sneaking out for the very first time. And although she could feel her excitement arousing, she refused to show it. This was not a joy ride or a fun trip she had heard multitudes of teenagers gossip about. This was a mission. A mission to retrieve Marty and return him back to the zoo before any of the officials found out where he had gone and punish him.

Alex and Melman followed after her. Alex wasn't quite as coordinated or serene as the female tiger was when getting over the wall. Instead of trying to get over himself, the lion had scaled the giraffe's towering neck as a ladder and was now having difficulty getting down. He finally let go after being suspended a full six feet above the ground, flailing and swingng like a disheveled spider on a string of webbing, and flopped onto his back with a thud.

"Graceful." Tigress scoffed, standing over him.

"Are you just going to stand there and gloat or are you going to help me up?" He pouted. She held out a paw and hefted him up to his feet, doing her best not to snicker at his remark.

Gloria wasn't as elegant with her exit, either. Unlike the two large cats, she didn't climb or leap over the brick barrier. Instead, she full on bulldozed through the wall, smashing a giant hole through the thick of brick and grout as if plowing past a fortress of plastic Legos.

Tigress feared that such a scene would give reason for the zookeepers to question what had happened, which would somehow relate to the animals actions, which would then cause them to wonder what had led them to do such a thing. She dared not to ponder on it for too long.

"Come on." The hippopotamus urged Melman. Said giraffe looked to be questioning what he was about to do, if not planning on backing out of the escapade. Tigress couldn't blame him. Melman, like Gloria and Marty, had spent his entire life in the zoo, not once ever seeing the world just outside of its borders. And now all of a sudden, they were abandoning it. Leaving behind all that they knew and into the city they called their home but never knew.

"One of us should wait in case he comes back." Melman squeaked, narrow head peeking from behind the rubble of crumbling bricks.

"Not now. This is an intervention." Gloria said, still undisturbed by the settling dust that armored her arms and shoulders. "We all got to go."

"What's the fastest way to Grand Central?" Alex asked over his shoulder as he inspected the city he had only known from behind zoo fences.

"You should take Lexington." Melman inclined.

"Melman!" Tigress and Gloria yelled in unison. All the pity in the world couldn't get to the best of Tigress, and apparently Gloria, too. Tigress knew when to take things seriously and to what extent. And when it came to emotions, specifically fear (be it her own or anyone else's), they needed to be put aside in such dire circumstances.

"OK. 'We.' We should take Lexington." Melman whimpered as he stepped over the pile of crushed bricks.

"Were the boxes really necessary?" Tigress asked him. She indicated to the tissue boxes covering his hooves that had been feverishly emptied given little time to prepare.

"They're for protection," He defended. Protecting him from what exactly Tigress didn't know, nor did she request the answer. She didn't have the patience to bring it up. So she dropped it.

And then they were off. Four concerned, devastated animals of diverse species galloping through Central Park on a quest to rescue their friend. Tigress only hoped that of all things, this wouldn't be the last time she would see her sanctuary. Who knew what could happen.

"We should've taken Park." Said Alex as he peered past the pillar. "Sure this is the fastest way to Grand Central Station?"

"I don't know! That's what Melman said." Gloria barked out, a little more frustrated than Tigress had thought. She was getting a little peeved herself. Time was of the essence and the subway was taking too long to arrive. They had traveled through their beloved city and decided that the quickest and most efficient form of transportation would be the subway. It wasn't like they could just go up to a taxi and ask them to take them to Grand Central. They were animals, and no human would ever in a million years welcome a pack of wild animals into their cab. Which was fine for two reasons. One, they wouldn't all fit inside such a cramped space; and two, traffic was particularly bad at night. It would've taken hours just to get across town.

Tigress had taken upon herself to stay undercover. Taking the less traveled routes, staying in the shadows, preventing as few people as possible from seeing them. It was bad enough that they had busted out of the zoo with evidence being the damaged brick wall, and showing themselves off for the world to see was the last thing they needed. The entire city would erupt in hysteria and having the authorities at their tails wasn't how Tigress had planned to end the night. So she kept her friends from prying eyes as best as she could.

"Hey. Hey, you guys." Melman called out as he emerged from the nearby men's bathrooms, boxed-hooves clomping softly against the cement floor. "That room has some nifty little sinks you can wash up in, and look!" He stuck out his long tongue and presented a half eaten round, blue object. "Free mints!" Oh God, she thought to herself as she cringed at the realization of what it actually was. "Melman, that's not a mint." She said, disgusted as she crossed her arms over her chest to assuage the sickening flops in her gut. Melman knitted his thin eyebrows over his bulging eyes, clearly confused. Thankfully, Alex had the nerve to do something about it before she could. She wasn't sure she could fully explain what he had just put into his mouth.

"This isn't a field trip." Alex snapped, yanking at the giraffe's tongue and snatching the circular bar from his mouth. He tossed it aside and it skidded across the grey cement before coming to a halt. Tigress had the feeling that no man would be wanting to use that anymore. "This is an urgent mission to save Marty from throwing his life away. Now, where's the train?" A whistle sounded off, signaling the arrival of their chauffeur.

"Here it comes." Melman piped in.

They all peeked their heads out in the direction of which their train would be arriving. But there was nothing there. There was no train before them. Tigress was befuddled for the smallest of seconds before realizing what this actually meant. She only had a millisecond to whirl around and witness the speeding train race right for their outstretched necks and for her to yank back the others before they could be decapitated. They all screamed with the oncoming train as they fell back.

"Thanks, Tigress." Melman stuttered, shaking slightly as the idea of nearly losing his head sank in.

"Anytime."

"What did Marty say to you?" Gloria scorned at Alex, much less shaken up than the lion or giraffe. "I asked you to talk to him"

"I did! I did! I don't understand.' He said, "Let's go." I said, 'Are you crazy?' He says, 'I'm ten years old.' And he has black-and-white stripes, and so then we sang and…"

"Tigress, did this actually happen?" Gloria interrupted.

The train squealed to a halt and a pair of doors slid open with a hiss. They started to board.

"Unfortunately, yes."

"You're not helping, Tigress." Alex yelped, becoming flustered.

"I'm not trying to help." She smirked despite the circumstances. It earned her a deadpan expression. They stepped onto the train and as they did so, dozens of people went to step off. Once they saw that there was a lion, a tiger, a hippo, and a giraffe just a stone's throw away, all hell broke loose. They ran in all directions, screaming and panicking. Tigress couldn't do anything about it. She could only hope that they got back to the zoo with Marty before anything bad could happen.

Tigress and the others started taking their seats. The doors closed and they were just about to take off when Melman, the last one to get on, started to go into a frenzy. It appeared that his hind leg was stuck in the middle of the doors. Tigress sighed, desperately trying to not get annoyed by the giraffe's clumsiness, and went over and pulled on his foot until it popped inside, hoof no longer covered by one of his beloved tissue boxes. She saw the quickest of glimpses of said box tumble to the platform, now lost and forgotten.

Oops.

She took a seat in between Alex and Melman as they raced through the underground railroad. Aside from the light jerking of the train,the grimy seats, rusting support poles along with the scent of the subway that was too musty for her liking, the train was relatively clean and safe. The rushing wind pounded and wailed as they sped through the tunnels, rattling the windows behind her head. She didn't mind.

"Aw!" Alex groaned dejectedly beside her. She looked over at the lion to see what the fuss was. A trembling man who must've missed his turn to get off when he could and was now trapped in a car full of wild animals. He quivered fearfully behind a large newspaper displaying the headline for the sport's section. "Knicks lost again."

"What a tragedy." Tigress huffed, leaning back into the scraped plastic of the bench, arms once again crossed over the cream-colored fur of her chest.

"Could you be any more impassive?" Alex asked, a hint of anger behind his tone as he shot her a scowl.

"Is that a rhetorical question or are you wondering just how much I do not care for a lost basketball game?" She remarked, the smallest of grins snaking up her muzzle.

"What are you going to do." Melman voiced in monotone, his head resting upside down on the complete other side of Gloria. Due to his long neck and being in such a small space (in terms of being in a larger-sized species), he barely fit as it was, even with his neck bent. Before Alex could take another whack at defending his reasoning for being upset for such an oh-so important occasion such as a sports event, a noise that could be easily mistaken for a strangling cat talking through a radio crackled over the intercom.

"Did that say "Grand Central Station" or 'my aunt's constipation'?" Alex asked aloud.

"Let's just hope it's not the latter." Said Tigress.

"This is it." Gloria said.

As soon as the doors opened up, they ran to the stairs that led to their designated location where Marty was most likely to be. Just as Tigress' paws landed on the first step, a deafening clatter rang out behind her. She was almost too afraid to look, but she did, and as predicted, wished she hadn't. There was Melman, floundering around as he trampled through the remains of what had to be a drum kit that belonged to a man in dark sunglasses. What had happened was obvious and Tigress had to restrain herself from groaning.

Melman was clearly not meant for the city.

She trudged her way to where he laid in a crumpled heap of limbs and drums. She lifted him back onto his feet and pulled him along to the stairs, which then turned into an escalator.

Finally they were getting somewhere. She prayed to whatever greater power up above in the heavens to give her favor and to make the rest of the night much less chaotic.

Her prayers must've been left unanswered because said chaos was unfolding not only a dozen feet in front of her. Alex. Alex the Lion, praised and adored King of New York, the crowning jewel of the Central Park Zoo, was swinging from a suspended light then jumping to the floor where crowds of citizens ran amuck to the nearest exits, screaming their heads off.

"Move aside. We have an emergency here. This is an emergency situation. Hey, hey. Just chill out. It's not that big of an emergency. Upstairs, downstairs." Alex outcried to the people.

How many times did she need to explain to him that humans could not understand him? She thought to herself dryly.

All of a sudden, an elderly woman who was peacefully walking by saw Alex frantically running about and with impossible speed and agility, swung her handbag right at his head. She struck him a few times before pulling out a bottle of what had to be pepper spray and shot a good dose of it into his eyes. He cried out in pain. "How do you like that?" The woman shrieked.

"Lady! What is wrong with you?" He yelled out. She hit him again, this time in the back of his skull. "Ow! Get a grip on yourselves, people." He ran away before she could continue to beat the living daylights out of him.

"You bad kitty." She squawked after him.

Finally reaching the top, she surveyed the area in search of their friend. It only took a few seconds to spot his black-white striped figure. She ran to him just as Alex tackled him to the ground.

"I got him! I've got him!"

"He's got him!" Gloria hollered. "He's got him!"

"He's got him! He's got…" Tigress heard Melman from behind her. She could've sworn she heard a distant crash nearby, as if something had been hit. She didn't care to look. They had Marty, and now they needed to leave before they caused anymore mayhem tonight.

"Whoa! What are you guys doing here?" Marty asked, flabbergasted.

Alex embraced him in a tight hug. "I am so glad we found you."

"We were so worried about you." Gloria said over him.

"Don't worry, I'm fine, I'm fine. Look at me. I'm fine." Marty said indicating to his unharmed self, as if he hadn't just snuck out of a zoo and ran off to go into the great unknown without any supervision or consultation whatsoever.

"You're fine? Oh, he's fine." Alex said rather calmly. Tigress blinked in surprise. She was expecting him to overreact in his own dramatic, flamboyant way that was really unnecessary. The fact that he was actually being at peace about it after the whole freak out session at finding Marty's absence and frantic getaway to Grand Central station, worried her. He was like a volcano; the longer it took to actually explode, the bigger the eruption was in the end. "Oh, great. You hear that? Marty's fine. That's good to know. Because I was wondering…" and without warning he snatched Marty by the neck in the blink of an eye. And that my friends, was the explosion Tigress feared would occur. "How could you do this to us? I thought we were your friends!"

"What's the big deal?" Marty gurgled. The iron grip on his neck must've made it a challenge to breathe, let alone talk. "I was coming back."

"Don't ever do this again. You hear me?" Alex said, tightening his grip, as if he wasn't already strangling the zebra.

"Do you hear him?" Gloria wagged a finger like a mother disciplining her child who had disobeyed her.

"We're running out of time." Melman suddenly interjected. Tigress had to inwardly swallow the groan threatening to bellow from her throat at the sight of him. It wasn't really his presence that nearly made her facepalm. It was the broken Grand Central Station clock encasing his head that made her want the world to split open and swallow her whole. How it came to be there and how she had not taken such notice of it was unbeknownst to her. All she did know was that Melman was most definitely not well coordinated, especially in the bustling city.

"Oh, Melman, you broke their clock?" Gloria said, speaking Tigress' thoughts aloud.

"...do this again! Don't you ever, ever do this again!" Alex continued to rant.

Tigress was now thinking it was probably better if they hadn't come along in this chase. Not that it was a task unworthy enough to take on, but the consequences and events taking place before her were certainly not the best. She should've gone alone. She was the fastest, quietest, and most discreet of the group. She would've been back at the zoo with Marty in tow in no less than an hour if she had convinced her friends to stay behind.

But right now she had other things to deal with. Such as the entirety of the police force storming into the station on a rampage. She knew exactly what they were there for and could only pray they could get out of it. It was up to her to do the job.

"Alex! We have to go. Now!" She commanded, yanking him to his feet. "Come on." She went over to Gloria where she was doing her best to pull the prized clock off of the giraffe's head. "We have to go." She urged.

But it was too late. Within seconds they were surrounded by blue clad men and women with bullet-proof shields held in front of them. Streams of search lights suddenly shined down on them and they froze on the spot, inspecting the large entourage of authoritative figures cornering them. There had to be well over a hundred of them and all were armed to the teeth. They were trapped.

"Cute and cuddly, boys. Cute and cuddly." A voice chimed below her.

Tigress chanced a glance to the source of the voice. It was revealed to be the penguins from the zoo, waddling and grinning as if they were nothing put purely innocent bystanders caught in the midst of this mess. But she knew full well that if it weren't for them, they wouldn't be here in the first place. She shot Skipper, the leader of the band of black and white birds, a glare that would've sent him running.

"It's the Man." Marty whispered, looking stunned. But instead of cowering, he regained his charm and spoke up. "Good evening, officers." He said aloud gleefully. Probably to appeal to their better nature.

"No. No. No." Alex hissed towards him harshly. "You don't talk now. OK? You're not good with the 'putting words together and their coming out good' thing. You keep it 'shh'." The lion stepped forward and clasped his paws together in a welcoming manner. "Hey! How ya doing? You know what? Everything's cool. We just had a little situation here. Little internal situation. My friend," he motioned to the zebra still splayed on the ground, "went a little crazy. Happens to everybody. The city gets to us all. Went a little cuckoo in the head."

"Don't be calling me cuckoo in the head." Marty remarked, seemingly only slightly offended for being marked as mentally unstable.

"Just shush!" Alex whirled around and angrily pressed a finger to his snout at his striped friend.

"Alex." Tigress intervened. "This is not the time or place to try and negotiate our way out of this." Said the female tiger as she placed a firm paw on his arm, forcefully ushering him away from the officers.

"I can handle this." He said back, pulling on his arm. She didn't let go.

"No. You can't." She nearly roared out. "We need to get out of here now if you want to get back to your precious zoo." She had had enough of this nonsense. She was completely fed up with all of these sorry excuses and shenanigans in their journey across New York City. She was taking them home right now even if it killed her.

"I got this, Tigress!" He said back just as heated, freeing his arm with a strong yank. "I'm not a kit anymore."

"Then why don't you stop acting like one." The words escaped her muzzle before she knew that they had. For a second, his gaze faltered. A pained expression etched into his golden facial features as if her statement had actually inflicted him with pain. But as soon as it came, it was gone. Replaced by a determined frown. He spun around to once again confront the humans only to find the leg of the elderly woman from before meet a very special place known only to the male gender. He doubled over at her strike and she was instantly carried off by two speeding policemen.

"Would you give a guy a break?" Alex squeaked out, clutching where the sun didn't shine. If Tigress wasn't so peeved at the large cat who whimpered in pain, she would've chuckled. But otherwise she remained standing tall and strong like a mighty redwood tree. After a few moments to recover from the blow, Alex composed himself.

"We'll take my little friend home and forget this ever happened. All right? No harm, no foul, right?" He waved his arms in emphasis. When he went forward a little, the crowd scuttled backwards in fear of the large lion. "Hey, it's cool. It's me, Alex the lion. From the zoo." He smiled politely and posed for them as if that could show just who they were dealing with. Tigress rolled her eyes at him as he chivalrously went into his signature performing position. It wasn't as if there weren't any other lions in Manhattan that could be mistaken for him. And they still couldn't understand a lick of what he was saying. Again, they were humans.

"What's the matter with them?" He turned around looking rather confused. Tigress was just about to explain to her oblivious friend why they weren't showering him with bouquets of flowers and cheers and kneeling down to kiss his feet he was used to when something out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. A singular man in a green uniform stood out from the others, shaking like a leaf on a tree in front of his brothers in arms. He clumsily held a rifle in his hands and was aiming it straight at Alex's back.

She instantly charged, shoving Alex aside when the trigger was pulled and something fast and sharp imbedded itself into the meat of her shoulder. She looked at it to access the damage only to find a dart. A tranquilizer dart. The fuzzy, pink end was like a dandelion tickling her chin, its sleek, metal body shining under the bright light. She suddenly felt dizzy, the earth swaying too and fro beneath her paws. And sick. She felt insanely sick. She fell to her knees, trying to blink away black and blue splotches materializing in her vision.

Those weren't there before. She thought to herself.

She could distinctly hear someone calling her name when she was suddenly lying on her side. The cool tile of the floor was the only thing she felt physically while the rest of her body tingled with numbness. Her brain felt like it was drowning in a sea of mud and sog. The more she tried to swim to the surface, the deeper and thicker the brown slosh became and soon she would be consumed in this swamp of drowsiness.

And then there they were. All of her friends crowding around her. All of them; Gloria, Marty, Melman and his broken clock, and Alex; appearing before her like angels descending from the heavens. They started looking distorted, as if she were looking at them through a warbled screen of glass.

"Tigress…" a voice echoed, sounding small and afraid.

"What… what's happening?" She mumbled through heavy lips. Her eyelids were much heavier as they dropped farther over her eyes. The last thing she saw were the hands of the Grand Central Station clock tick for the last time, clicking into place over its white face.


	7. Chapter 7

Purple. What a strange color.

Not to shame it or anything, but the brilliant shade of violet that glows in the glass vial just screams 'bad news'. I speculate it from afar as Donnie holds it close to his face as if observing a small, newly discovered species of insect. Whether in a good or bad way is still to be determined, but my mind is already made up that it is, indeed, in no means meant to serve some divine, world-saving purpose. Probably the complete opposite. And that's what scares the hell out of me.

"If this purple substance was injected into Bebop and Rocksteady's bloodstream, it's possible that if I can find a unique isotopic signature I can use it to track their exact location." Donnie says after exiting his lab.

"We find them, we find Shredder." Casey speaks up confidently, setting down is hockey stick. "Pt them up in shackles." I continue to eye him warily as he rounds the candle-strewn podium.

Like with most people, I don't trust Casey Jones. Now, don't get me wrong. Seeing someone else that isn't a mutant reptile or rat and was dragged down here against their will is reassuring in a weird, not-at-all-reassuring way. But did it have to be him?

You may—of course—be wondering what I mean and why I'm being so harsh towards the stranger, including with the little incident with the Stop sign (which may or may not have been totally my fault), but let's just say that he isn't exactly pleasant company.

To start off, this has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he's handsome. I mean, yeah, he is. Symmetrical features, strong build. In all, he's quite a sight. But he's a little older.

Oh puh-lease! Don't give me that bullshit! I have absolutely nothing against his age. And although he has to be in his late twenties to early thirties, he acts like a complete child. Always moping around and complaining about the conditions down here like some whiny five year old. Seriously, grow up!

And then there's the matter that he's all googly-eyeing the beautiful woman standing in the room, April. (Not that I have anything against his immediate interest in the woman in the yellow jacket. It's more like most of his attention is on her and only here and not at all on the subject at hand, which is really frustrating).

April. April fucking O'Neil. The successful, smart news reporter who not only took part in saving the city, but was also deemed to be the turtles' savior all those years ago when the lab was burned to the ground.

And...

Hey! Can you keep a secret? Like, the biggest secret in the history of secret keeping?

Are you sure?

Okay. Here it goes... I may be an itsy bitsy, teeny tiny, a wee little bit jealous of the brunette. I'll explain why later.

"Um, excuse me. I named them." April suddenly calls out, pulling me out of my daze.

"And what's with the kid?" Casey says, motioning to me from across the room. "Is she like some kind of superhero you guys are hiding or is she just a whack job you picked up off the streets."

"I'm more or less the former." I answer, shrugging at the ring of truth in his statement. Honestly, who's to say that he's wrong? "And I'm pretty sure I'm not the only whack job here who was picked up off the streets, Jones."

Oh ho ho ho ho! Need some ice for that burn, Hockey Boy?

Casey narrows his eyes in my direction with so much intensity his gaze could've set me on fire, but I don't flinch. Instead I grin proudly, relishing in the moment of pure victory. It's a small victory, but I'll take what I can get.

The majority of the others chuckle to themselves while the stick in the mud known as Leonardo rolls his eyes at me tiredly.

"Okay." Casey draws out slowly after a pause, clearly befuddled by both my honesty and snarkiness. "So... wait. I'm confused."

"About what?" I ask.

"Just... I don't know." He fumbles. "Like, what are you doing here? Do your parents know where you are?"

Oh my fucking god. He didn't...

How the hell did he even... how did he blindly shoot an arrow into the chink of my armor with no intention of bringing me down whatsoever. Why? Just why?

"I'm guessing someone didn't fill him in on my current situation." I say squeakily due to the tightness in my throat. I try to brush off my previous shock by leaning against the wall casually, folding my arms across my chest to hide my trembling hands. Casey doesn't seem to take note of my change in behavior as something else grabs his attention. He suddenly turns and goes stiff as if he had seen some kind of ghost. His eyes widen and he looks like he might faint.

"Don't move. Don't move." He whispers to Raph and Mikey. They do as he says without any explanation.

Automatically, I feel endangered. I cautiously creep towards the statue of a man to get a better look at what has scared the once fearless hockey stick-wielding warrior.

"There is a giant rat back there." He wheezes out.

True to his word, Master Splinter resides in a dim, domed room, pruning some bonsai looking plants that remind me of something I probably saw in some karate movie, I think. And I'm pretty sure the song _Hello_ (which one, I'm not sure) is playing on his old radio.

I snicker at Casey's shock of seeing the turtle's adoptive father in such a peaceful, non-threatening state.

"Yeah. We've, uh... seen him around here before." Raph draws out, a mischievous gleam sparking to life in his eyes.

What the hell is he talking about? That's his dad, I think to myself, confused at the reptile's statement.

"And there's only one way to get rid of him." Raph says, seemingly starting to get excited about something. Obviously I have no idea what it is.

I swivel my head around to see if anyone is willing to let me in on some inside joke that I'm unaware of. The results are varying. April and Donnie look just as confused as I am, Mikey seems to be on Raph's side, and Leo looks to be trying to get the duo's attention with warning hand signals.

What the fuck is going on?!

"You gotta get low." Raph encourages, kneeling down into a defensive position. Casey follows, as if consumed by the red clad mutant's words than actual common sense. "And when you charge, you gotta go fast and you gotta hard."

Wait! Is he… Oh. I get it now.

Ooooooohhhh. This is going to be fun.

Casey bounces on the balls of his feet, preparing to run. I decide to sit back, relax, and enjoy the show.

"I believe in you Casey." Mikey comments.

And finally, Casey lets out an ear splitting war cry as he takes off in a flash. And just as he is about to collide with the overgrown rodent, Splinter swings his tail and snags Casey's foot from right under him, sending him falling to the floor with a lid thud. The sensei does a series of flips and twists and lands gracefully in front of the sprawled figure known as Casey Jones the police officer.

"Giant rat:1. New guy:0." Splinter says triumphantly.

Everyone chuckles as we gather around the fallen man. To see someone go from absolutely fearless in the midst of danger (when there wasn't anything dangerous at all) to lying on his back like an overturned bug makes a smile spread across my lips.

Oh come in. It was funny.

"I can't believe he did it. I actually thought he wasn't going to do it." Raph says, fist bumping Mikey's outstretched knuckles. Another round of laughter chains through the group.

"I feel like we should save people more often." Says the orange-banded brother.

Agree to disagree.

Casey takes to his feet and storms away, fuming with embarrassment and rage. April follows after him in hot pursuit to bring him back. If it were me, I'd let him leave. At least one of us would be able to get out of here without four walking, talking turtles taking chase.

"Oh, hey!" Donnie says to me. I turn to him sharply and he backs away. Perhaps it's the way I approach the technical genius (scorning frown and tense posture) that makes him quiver like a small animal under a predator's gaze.

Wait a minute! Is that how he feels around me? Is he afraid of me?

In most situations, I wouldn't have taken much thought in intimidating another, mainly because I really don't give a damn. But the fact that I strike fear in the brainiacs heart so easily makes me second guess myself. Apparently, I'm much too aggressive for him. Maybe because I feel like I have to. If I was to go soft out of nowhere, they would all take advantage of me and see it as some sort of weakness. It would be like bringing my guard down. And with that they can... they can… I don't know what they'll do. But what I do know is that I'm not going to be staying here long enough to get acquainted so it doesn't matter.

I keep telling myself that to subside the constricting muscles in my chest that could be mistaken for guilt.

"What?" I ask.

"Um, A-April brought some s-stuff for you." He stutters. He spins on his heel and shuffles away, retrieving a duffel bag from the stacks of pizza boxes that is their couch. He hands it to me quickly, as if passing food to a feral tiger.

"What is it?" I ask.

"Well, I figured that you're gonna be here for awhile, right?"

Yeah, against my will.

"Yeah. So?"

"So I called April and she went out and bought you a few necessities we thought you might need."

Unbelievable. While I've been sleeping like a baby, he's been making sure that I'm provided with stuff that I didn't care to think up of earlier. He was making sure that I make myself at home, like I'm a real guest.

How thoughtful.

Unfortunately, I figure out that I'm too much of a coward to express my gratitude because I give him the faintest of nods and skedaddle. From racing down the highway on a motorcycle like a maniac to running away at confronting my thoughts and feelings. That's me. Character development at its finest, ain't it?

I set the bag on my bed and zip it open. Inside are all the bathroom necessities that could ever exist: a hair brush, hair bands, a towel, a moisturizer that smells of roses, a toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo, conditioner, body wash, even a bit of shaving cream and a razor blade. April thought of everything.

It's in this moment, hygiene products scattered around me, where I realize that I am filthy. As if glimpses in mirrors and pools of water weren't enough. My hands are covered in a layer of dirt, a dark substance buried deep under my fingernails, said fingers yellowing from lack of cleanliness. And this is just my hands.

I grab my stuff, including my own backpack, and take off to find the nearest restroom. It takes me awhile to actually find the bathroom because I absolutely refuse to ask for directions. It may just be my pride, but I really don't want to waltz up to one of the brothers and ask them something as subtle as where their facilities is like everything is all good between us.

Well, at least I am with one, maybe two. First, there's Mikey. Mikey is such a sweetheart it's hard to not embrace the lug. Kind, lovable, and trustworthy. I make a mental note to watch my back with him. Who knows? His oh-so-friendly personality could just be a facade.

Then there's Splinter. Calm, collected, and overly fatherly. Not just with his sons, but with me, as well. I'm tempted to accept his helping hand—er, paw—like all children do with their parents as an act of love and understanding, but I can't see myself like that. Needy and lost (these qualities apply to me in another sense) like some kid searching for guidance when low and behold, there's Master Splinter. I depend too much on myself to reach out to anyone else, and I don't plan on stopping anytime soon.

The bathroom is surprisingly bigger and cleaner than I expect. I stop dead in my tracks when I spot myself in the mirror.

I am a mess! Plain hoodie and white washed jeans caked in mud, my sneakers totally trashed; laces shredded to ribbons and one of the tongues are nearly ripped in half. Whatever skin pokes out from underneath the heaps of soiled cloth is smudged in a thick layer of sweat and grime. And my hair, don't even get me started.

I quickly grab the needed supplies and jump into the shower. We've got work to do.

—

Have you ever taken a hot shower?

That was a stupid question. You probably have. But to me, it's like….

Okay. Put yourself in my shoes. For over two weeks, I've spent my days walking in a deserted forest, alone and afraid, with only scarce ponds and lakes to take a dip in. Apparently, Mother Nature never intended on having preheated bathtubs in the wilderness so all of my bathing took place in the shallows of icy waters. Now imagine yourself after weeks of chilled baths and are now taking the hottest, steamiest shower you have ever experienced. Feels good, doesn't it? Well, now you know how I feel.

Scrubbing my entire body in sweetly scented soaps under a rain of piping hot water, tendrils of steam curling through the air, streams of warm vapor misting the walls and my bare skin. I have no idea how long I'm in here for, but what I do know is that I never want to get out. Yet I do, and with my exiting comes another discovery.

Drying myself off with the provided fluffy black towel, I see something sticking out from April's duffel bag. I pull it out curiously. It turns out to be a length of pale blue fabric that resembles a t-shirt. I press it in between my fingertips and gently stroke the silk-like material. Cotton. I dig through the bag's contents on a quest to see what other treasures lie in its depths. A few more shirts, pants, undergarments, even a few pairs of socks. And best of all, a brand spanking new set of tennis shoes. Their bleach white color is nearly blinding compared to my stained, muddy ones tossed on the tile floor.

Not only did April go out of her way and make sure that I could get all squeaky clean in the time I'm here, but she also thought to buy me a few new sets of clothes. How delightful.

In case you didn't catch it, that was me being sarcastic. Don't like it? Well, then you better get used to the disappointment.

I dress rather quickly, eager to wear something fresh for a change. When I wipe off the sheen of perspiration off the mirror, the change in my appearance is dynamic. I can now fully see my skin—which is a browning tan with a slight pink tint from the many days of walking under the sun's intense rays. My black hair hangs in damp waves at my hips, tangle-free and gleaming in the pale, yellow light. I look like a whole new person.

A second look at myself has my once grinning face suddenly falling. I remember the person who gave me all of this. The one person who didn't expect a 'thank you' from me or had any strings attached to these gifts like its a bargain. She had done this out of the kindness of her heart. And she's just as beautiful on the outside as she is on the inside.

I guess I really can't blame myself for comparing my looks to hers seeing that she is the very definition of gorgeous. And me... I'm not even close. I mean, she has flawless skin, perfect facial features; slender, thin body, and an overly kind personality.

Now put Exhibit A to next to Exhibit B and what do you get? A nearly rigged competition where everyone in the crowd votes for the obviously better fit competitor. I think you know what I'm talking about.

For starters, I am short and stocky. While April is a solid 5'6 without her designer shoes, I'm barely hovering over 5'3 like a hobbit. And sure, I'm taunt and muscular, but my body isn't capable of flowing with curves in all the right places, very much unlike the reporter. And instead of the sharp cheekbones, plush lips, and glittering eyes that the average lady beholds, I got stuck with a round baby face. Simple features such as brown eyes too large and too hungry for my small face, a soft button nose, and an ugly scar the shape of a crooked, upside-down triangle etched into my left cheek. And one last flaw that has my heart sinking into the pit of my stomach is my teeth. They're not as bad as you think. In fact, their relatively clean from the lack of use from hygienical mouth products. It's more or less their size that brings me down. Compared to most (mainly April), they're bigger than the norm. More like buck teeth. I come to realize that I have a slight lisp that gives the impression that I'm under the age of sixteen. Not that there's anything wrong with it because I am, without a doubt, possibly fifteen years old, but it does make me feel like I talk like a little girl. No wonder they all treat me like a kid.

See! This is what I mean by me being jealous of her. She's just so fucking perfect and walks around with her head held high as if she doesn't have a clue.

I press my lips together firmly to stop a whimper from escaping my throat.

God! I'm so pathetic. Standing in the bathroom wallowing in self pity all because I'm not pretty is just low, even for me. I shouldn't be so hung up on my oh-so-dashing looks when I have an escape plan to work on. And as much as I appreciate the new threads, I don't think to thank April for them. It would be better if I just left without ever exchanging any words at all, that way I won't feel any attachment to her when I book it.

The sooner I get out of here, the better. Whether I'm talking about the actual bathroom or the band of turtle vigilantes' lives, I'm not sure.

Aren't I a stubborn bastard?

I gather all of my stuff and leave the stuffy bathroom before I suffocate to death from the abundance of steam. I shove all of the baggage under my bed and throw out my old clothes. I consider keeping them for sentimental purposes, but dump them into the garbage can before I can change my mind. They bring back too many memories, most of which I wish I could forget.

Okay, now what do I do? Guess I can make my bed, maybe even fold those clothes. Yeah, I'll do that.

"Hey." A voice says behind, sweet as honey and as strong as whiskey. I have to physically force myself not to groan.

Ugh! Not you again!

"What do you want?" I ask sourly, back sto him as I fold my new wardrobe and place them neatly at the foot of the mattress.

"Jeez, tone it down a bit." Says Leonardo. "I'm just trying to be polite here."

"Uh-huh, sure." I mumble as I fully turn to him. In the pale, rustic glow of ancient lightbulb, shadows cast against his figure, illuminating features that I hadn't noticed before. Like the way the scar on his chin stretches when he clenches his jaw. Or how the shallow darkness hollows out his cheeks and the eye sockets of his skull, pronouncing the vibrant shades of greens mixed in his skin. And even more, the way his electric blue eyes sparkle like sapphires beaming under the flashlight of hopeful miners trapped under hundreds of feet of earth. I can't help but notice that his right eye is lighter than his left, the ring of white encircling his right pupil larger than its twin. How peculiar.

He leans against the bricked off frame of the entrance, crossing his brawny arms over his plastron.

"So... how are you?" He asks.

Fucking fantastic! How are you?

"Spectacular." I answer, clearly not at all spectacular now that he's showed up.

He drags out a long sigh and stands upright. "Look." He starts, rather slowly as if trying to keep his cool.

We'll have to see how that goes for him when I rumble up another fight with him.

"I think we got off on the wrong foot."

"You think?"

"I'm just saying that I haven't been the most… welcoming of people to confront you. And—lets just put it out there—neither have you." I scoff, but continue to listen. "And I would like to be the first to apologize for my lack of manners and welcoming greetings."

Oh, he's such a gentleman.

WRONG! Like I'm going to believe all this bullshit that he actually regrets not being relatively nice to me when we first met. I bet he wrote this whole heartfelt speech on his hand for good measure.

"Maybe we could find a way to put aside our differences and-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Stop right there." I interrupt him. He instantly shuts up, more out of shock than obedience. I need to speak my thoughts aloud before he continues to make amends as if he means it. Which I doubt he does. "Okay, listen here. I know what your trying to do here and it's not gonna work."

"What?"

"Oh, come on. It's pretty obvious. You know, you're not exactly subtle by any standards." He opens his mouth to speak, but I don't give him the chance. "I think we both know that you of all people wouldn't be apologizing to me on your own accord. I bet someone probably put you up to this so that I'll behave.

"Well, I got news for you. You don't need to come up to me and try to fix things as if you actually want to. You don't have to admit it, but I know that all you want is for me to cough up all the dirt on the Shredder like I'm one of his little spies and pack up my stuff and get the hell out of here. News flash: I don't know shit! And due to this oh-so tragic realization of me not knowing anyone or anything related to your great nemesis, I can therefore not help you with your mission of bringing him down. So why don't you just take your sorry ass out of here and find something better to do with your time than waste it on me."

I only realize that I'm yelling once I finish speaking.

Silence. Awkward silence. Deafening silence. Complete and utter silence. That's all that remains between the two of us. Silence and tension. Tension so thick you could slice it with the dullest butter knife in your kitchen drawer.

Our eyes lock and we sit there for an eternity, staring into each others' souls.

I mean it. I mean every word I had spoken, which is probably why the blue-banded turtle is so speechless. I've done it again. I have just proved to him that I may not be the spy he believes me to be, but that I am the self-centered, hot-headed bitch he always knew me to be—as of two days knowing each other.

Was I too intense? Yeah, probably. And an inkling of my being turns to ice in fear that I had offended the mutant leader in some form or way, but I'm actually glad that I said something to him. It's better than keeping quiet. Plus, it was bound to come out sooner and later. Fate just decided to go with its first option.

The look on Leonardo's face is enough for me to nearly bust out laughing (but I restrain myself, of course). The absolute awestruck that riddles his face is just so shocking that it's hysterical. Mouth dropping open into a big 'o', nonexistent eyebrows scrunched together tightly, and eyes widened so much that they threaten to fall out of his head.

After a moment to collect himself, he lets out a heavy sigh, placing two of his fingers in the space between his eyes as if to assuage a headache. He looks exhausted. "I'm sorry." He breathes out after a minute. "I'm sorry you feel that way, but you have to believe me. I am truly sorry that we couldn't have met under different, less pressuring circumstances. And I know it sucks that you're being forced to stay down here, but we don't have a choice."

"What do you mean that you don't have a choice? There's always another choice." I comment, a little less demeaning than my angered bout earlier.

"You're not wrong, but as a leader I have to make the smart decisions, whether I like them or not. If it were up to me, I'd let you go just because you want to. But I can't."

"Why can't you?" I nearly scream out,

"Because I have a responsibility to my family to keep them safe from any possible threats, even if that so-called threat is you." He shouts back. "In my honest opinion, I don't think you're working with the Shredder. But's the possibility that you could be that enforces me to take precautions. I don't want you to stay down here thinking your our prisoner, I don't want you to fight with us, I don't even want you here while we're in the middle of something this big. But I don't get what I want because I have to set aside my wants and needs to protect those around me." He takes a deep breath, face glowing with an angry blush. "One learns real quick that in order to protect your family, you have to sacrifice your feelings to preserve theirs."

Now it's my turn to be at a loss for words. He basic just poured out his heart and soul to me. Me, the most unprecedented person to converse with about feelings in general... and strategy... and logic. Yeah, I'm not that stable in my core values.

In this little heart-to-heart of ours, Leo has either been truly genuine or just a really good liar. Either way, its effect is almost instantaneous. At first I feel a pang or guilt strike my innards as if his words had taken the form of a sledgehammer and swung at my gut. I try to brush it off, of course, repeating to myself that it's just my hunger and thirst (but seriously, I'm like dying of dehydration). But then I see how shook up Leo has become. No longer does he stand proudly with his back straight and gaze steadfast forward, nor does he hold himself with a sense of strength or solidity. It's as if he's turned to liquid; unstable and fluid. As if the very foundation of a mighty, sturdy building suddenly transformed to water and it all collapsed down into a pile of rubble and mud.

Is he just talking about putting aside his feelings with me or is he meaning something else? Something in my gut says otherwise.

"You weren't just talking about being a leader and making hard choices, weren't you?" I say.

He huffs, shrugging slightly. Not quite confirming it, yet he not denying it, wither. "Forget it. It doesn't matter." He says shortly, turning away from me.

For a moment I have the overwhelming urge to pester him about what he really means. To listen with an open ear to whatever is going through his mind like I actually care about him and his feelings. It's a strange feeling. And due to its oddness I deny it, pushing it down as if I can get rid of it. But it's like trying to submerge a balloon into a bucket of water.

"Well," I say and clear my throat to get his attention. "As much as I've enjoyed our little talk, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave. As you can see I've got some settling in to do."

Leo looks somewhat disappointed, but easily composes himself so that he's back to normal, or as normal as your friendly neighborhood teenage mutant ninja turtle can be. He gives a curt nod, whispering a 'bye' when he excuses himself.

Dear reader, I believe that we have been acquainted, right? I mean, you've been listening to my story for like what? Six chapters? And I'm sure you've noticed that on the rare occasion I've been known to do something stupid.

Well, maybe not that rare.

…

FINE! You win. I do stupid things a lot. You happy?!

Unfortunately, now is one of those times.

"Hey." I call. Leonardo stops midstep, head still looking before him on the floor. "I'm sorry."

The slightest shift of his neck reveals those dazzling azure orbs. They're a beacon of light in the bleak gloom, glowing like jewels adorned on a beautiful woman's necklace.

"It's fine." He says in a hushed voice. "And thanks... for hearing me out."

"It's the least I could do."

The mutant shuffles away without another word and I'm once again left alone.


	8. Chapter 8

My head hurts. It like, really hurts.

No, I didn't bump it against anything or smack it like some clumsy dimwit, thank you very much. And no, I didn't do it on purpose. Seriously, who does that?

The cause for the this pain in my skull is all compliments to my dumb-syndrome.

No! I don't mean down syndrome, I knowingly said dumb for a reason. Jesus, I'm not entirely stupid. And, okay yeah. I made it up.

What? Are you going to criticize me for having a smidgen of creativity and now of all times it's finally showing through? Better not if you know what's good for you.

Sorry. Didn't mean to get all defensive.

Anyway, dumb-syndrome is where your intellect is so low compared to some higher being that it literally hurts—not literally, but you get the gist. For example, you know how you have those days at school and your doing your work and everything's going good until suddenly the smart kid with the 4.0 GPA and five scholarships comes up and corrects your work out of nowhere? So you sit there, clearly dumbfounded and your first instinct/action is to try and match them on their level of knowledge. But in the end, you only embarrass yourself in front of all the other surrounding students.

I know that this example isn't valid in the least due to the fact that I have no business being in a normal school full of normal kids going about their normal days. For those who haven't noticed, I am nowhere near normal. The exact opposite, if you will.

So who am I to say that I know what it's like to be outsmarted by another student when I have no memories of doing so? I get it, it's not my place to say anything on the subject so I'll stop. I just needed an example to explain why I have such a huge headache.

After Leo's little confession, I decided to get my bearings on what exactly is going on around here since no one tells me shit. And who better to get information from than the brain of the group, Donatello.

I find him in his laboratory area, pouring over a tablet. I've only seen glimpses of Donnie's lab and yet I'm amazed at just how much science equipment is crammed into such a small space. Not to mention a whole freaking ninja turtle taking up a third of it.

It's a miracle I managed to squeeze my way in. In every corner, glass vials, Bunsen burners, small bits and pieces of machinery, and electronic devices occupy the tops of the tables. From beakers bubbling with bright, radioactive colored liquids to television screens vomiting wires and metal parts from their backs. It's all a controlled, chaotic mess that just screams, "Science Geek at Work!" But I don't say that out loud, of course. You've got to give me credit for at least trying to not be an asshole, especially to him.

I stand behind him for awhile, uncertain of how to approach him. I don't wanna interrupt him in the middle of his work, whatever it may be. That'd be rude, more rude than biting his brother's arm, that's for sure.

Yeah... that wasn't my best moment.

So for a solid five minutes, I stand there awkwardly twisting my fingers and shifting on my feet debating whether or not to speak up. Later on, though, he turns around and goes to another spot and scoops out bits of purple liquid from the inside of what looks to be a glass dart. Then he goes to another table and readies a microscope, muttering to himself incoherently. He does all of this without ever seeing me. It's as if I'm not even there.

I'm still wondering whether I should announce my presence or not when he pulls out a pair of glass slides the size of silver dollars. Smudged in between the two is a single drop of the violet liquid.

"Okay, Donnie. You got this." He whispers to himself. He blows air of his cheeks and places the glass disks under the lense of his microscope. He continues his hushed ranting of cohesion and other terms I can't comprehend, studying the purple spot under the machine with his intelligent hazel eyes like a scientist expertly conducting an experiment. I watch him with unbeknownst interest, observing his careful, meticulous movements as he handles the lab equipment.

Considering his size and strength as a mutant who's very hands were nearly four times bigger than my own, he was surprisingly gentle. Putting aside the fact that he's a ninja and was probably drilled from his youth to today to be light on his feet, and compared to his fellow turtle brethren, he's much more diligent. While the others (particularly Raphael) look like they could bend metal with their bare hands, if not snap it in two, Donnie looks as if he wouldn't hurt a fly.

He turns the knobs on the side of the microscope, rehearsing some science-y mumbo jumbo I could never understand. Everything he does, every twist and every word that effortlessly flows past his mouth is all professional. A task he clearly has done a hundred times. And the more he continues, the brighter he seems.

See! This is what I mean about having dumb-syndrome. Maybe I'm not some egghead with straight A's and a high school diploma, and I'm definitely not compatible for any of those titles. But at that moment I really wished I was. Then I'd be able to decipher what the actual hell Donnie was talking about.

Donnie, a reserved, sheltered creature with not only natural intelligence, but the mind of a genius, living alone and untouched by the struggles of a simple life that leads to a simple mind. Who knows what goes on in that big brain of his? That brilliant mind trapped in that skull, which is most likely three times bigger than my own—which feels like a shriveling peanut by now.

I'm brought out of my thoughts when Donnie suddenly straightens up, no longer hovering over the black lenses of his microscope.

"Is it really possible?" He said, more to himself than anybody else.

"Is what really possible?" I ask, finally finding my voice after all of this time of creepily standing by his side without his knowledge. He turns his head, not to me but to a distant point on the other side of the room and hastily stands up, heading towards something that has caught his attention while swiping something from yet another table. I follow him, rather eager to hear what mystery the purple clad reptile has unraveled under his microscopic gaze.

"What's really possible?!" I ask him again, raising my voice to divert his train of thought to the person literally trailing him, but he keeps steadfast on his target as if I hadn't said anything at all, as if I didn't exist.

Maybe to some people they might find it charming how focused he can be to the point of obliviousness. But to others, such as myself, they find it peevishly annoying that he unknowingly—if not unintentionally—ignores them.

Yet back in the present, I understand why he was so determined on the subject at hand, seeing that it not only brought a great deal of importance to their mission, but a once in a lifetime opportunity that would change their lives dramatically.

"Leo. Leo!" He calls out to his brother.

It only registers at this very second that Donnie has led me to the leader in blue, and I blindly obliged. I'm not saying that I don't want to interact with the blue-banded turtle due to our previous conversation, but... I don't want to interact with him because of our previous conversation. Who wouldn't? It's not like anything bad happened or anything, it's just that... I don't know. I guess it would just be the fact that we did have the conversation and the relationship between the two of us is now uncertain. At first, it was rocky, completely unstable with lack of trust, perhaps too much caution, and mainly suspicion. But in those few minutes alone together with our hearts on our sleeves, the glass wall of wariness and distrust shattered into a million pieces. Now I don't know what we are. Friends, allies, enemies. Who knows?

Donnie rushes up a short flight of stairs to where Leonardo sits on his large, queen-sized mattress.

We've just entered the most patriotic, most chivalrous room in the history of bedrooms. The walls are decked out in racks of shining swords, small yet deadly weapons accompanied a wall plastered with the American flag sealed in a giant glass canvas as if the leader in blue regularly recites the Pledge of Allegiance. A majority of the living space is painted in a somber shade of cobalt blue with a matching comforter neatly tucked in the sides of the mattress to match. If this isn't a perfect, spitting image of what Leonardo's room should be, I don't know what is.

Said turtle sits on the side of his bed, casually polishing one of his swords with a small square of cloth. He regards us with a tranquil attentiveness. Meanwhile, I'm over here nearly fuming all because I can't get Donnie to look at me for nothing.

"This is incredible. You won't believe this!" He says rapidly with barely any breath to speak. He probably realizes this because he takes a deep breath before he continues. "Okay. So I made a sample solution to expedite the analysis of the isotope. But while I catalyzed it..." Donnie continues to ramble on and on.

Not going to lie, I have no idea what he is talking about. I try to keep up with him as best as I can, but in the end I take a step back and watch the two converse instead.

When Donnie brings up the purple ooze (I'm assuming that's what the strange purple stuff is) Leo inclines his head.

"If the purple ooze can turn humans into animals, perhaps…" Donnie ventures, ushering for his leader to come closer. I do as well, standing on my tiptoes to see what the reptile has to show. Donnie holds up the object he had snatched not so long ago—an eyedropper filled with the violet liquid—and cautiously squeezes out two drops of the substance onto his other hand. It sinks into his green skin like water to a sponge, coursing through his veins and bones. His fingers twitch and one second there's three of them, and the next there's-

Five.

FIVE?!

Oh my God!

He has five fingers! He's got five fucking fingers?!

You've gotta be shitting me!

"It can turn us into humans." He breathes out, mesmerized by his newly sprouted appendages. He flexes them, testing if he can control them all. They wriggle around slowly, fresh like a flower blossoming for the very first time. I stand in absolute astonishment.

You'd think that for someone who had been hanging around four ninja mutant turtles and their rat sensei that I would've expected nothing less from this bumbling band of misfits. But no, I still internally freak out when someone's hand pops out two more fucking fingers in a matter of seconds! You would, too. Trust me.

Leo remains silent, absorbing this new information much more calmly than I ever could. He sidesteps his younger brother, distantly walking to the other side of the room to collect himself. Donnie and I watch him, one eye on the katana-wielding turtle and the other on the supplementary fingers that begin to merge back to their old three-fingered selves.

"If we can get our hands on more of this stuff, it could be life changing." Donnie says, rather hopefully, I might add.

That's when I see it. That's when I see the significance of this newfound discovery. The way Donnie rushed to his older brother to tell him the news, the way he stiffened in his lab when the glass disks were under the microscope, how he was so delicate as he controlled the experiment. It was all leading up to this opportunity. The opportunity to change their lives completely. To change who they are. This serum, this purple ooze, is some kind of mutagen that can change who or what you are in some magical, scientific way that's almost impossible to believe.

"We don't need that kind of change." Leo says, facing us. He remains expressionless as if unfazed by either the transformation of his younger sibling's hand or the news that he can become human. Maybe both.

The same could not be said of Donnie. He looks like a boulder had struck down the corners of his mouth from the once jovial grin to a downcast frown. I swear I see a line of water form in his hazel eyes. But he looks down for a moment at the sparkling ooze glowing faintly in its minuscule glass prison then back up, disappointment clear as day.

"You're right." He asserts, his excitable tone completely vanished. "Changing form would... jeopardize our strategic advantage. We have a system that works, we shouldn't be messing with the ooze." He finishes. He begins to turn away when Leo calls him back, stepping forward to say something quiet to the purple-banded reptile.

"Listen. You can't say a word to the others. That includes you, too." Indicating to me. I feel like shooting a snarky remark, something to possibly ease the brick-thick tension building up in the atmosphere. But the words get stuck in my throat and all I can manage is a nod. Donnie does the same obediently and shuffles away, head hanging low.

"What was all that about?" I ask. Leo returns to his previous spot on his bed, the royal blue sheets crumpling under his weight. He picks up his sword and begins polishing it once again. For a moment I think that he didn't hear me, but then he looks up and our eyes lock.

"I'm not so sure I should be the one to tell you." He says, absentmindedly rubbing the cloth back and forth over the steel blade, the metal face glistening in the dull light.

"Well, no one else will talk to me. And I'm guessing you have nothing better to do." I say back, motioning to his task. He stops for a moment, gaze flickering uncomfortably. He seems to be having some internal battle. Like one of those bloody, gory wars you see in old films, and it is raging in the confines of his conscious. It's that much of a struggle for him to decide whether or not to spill the beans on this whole escapade.

"H-How do I know I can trust you with this information you seem so interested in?" He hesitates.

I give him an "Are you kidding me?" look. Does he seriously not remember our conversation from like what?! Twenty minutes ago?

He seems to pick up on his mistake because he stops what he's doing almost immediately. "It's not that I don't trust you. Honestly." He raises his hands up in surrender. "It's just the fact that's it's a possibility that I can't."

I sigh heavily, dragging a hand over my face, nails digging into the soft meat of my cheek.

I guess there's no use in fighting about it… but that doesn't mean I can't try.

"Okay. Let's say that I am some accomplice of the Shredder, as you so lightly put it not so long ago. Wouldn't I know what I was doing if I was actually working for him?" I say. "Wouldn't I know the ins and outs of my leader's plan? And whether or not you tell me all the details of whatever is going on around here, it wouldn't make much of a difference."

Leo ponders this for a moment, absentmindedly running his thumb over his weapon. His biceps expand and contract continuously, the scales of his skin glinting softly with every flex of his muscles, rippling the leather-like flesh. I can't help watching how this simple movement causes so much of his arm to work. From the tattoo on his shoulder dancing to the stiffening of his wrist. It's a practiced technique he must have committed to for God knows how long.

"I guess..." Leo draws out. "I guess you're right." He rests his sword at his side and waves me over. I take a seat at the bottom of his bed, facing him as he adjusts his leg to fold underneath him. There's three feet of space between us, but it seems like two, maybe even one. I haven't been this close to him ever since he carried me off when I was trying to escape. You know, the second time.

"Um…" He chuckles mirthlessly, a crooked smile curling his lips upwards to reveal surprisingly clean, straight teeth. "I'm... not sure how to go about this." He says in uncertainty, scratching the nape of his neck.

I don't think I've ever seen him like this. So uncertain and so unlike himself. Although I've only known him for a few days, it's a startling change. If you've been with me while I've embarked on this journey and got to see me meet Leonardo, you would know that he is most definitely not the nervous type. He's confident, strong, and wise. He may be a little uptight at times, but never to the extent of anxiety. It's strange to see him so out of character.

"Just go with your gut. It'll come to you." I say.

Wait?! Now I'm encouraging him? Why the fuck am I encouraging him?! Sure, I'd love to know how everything seems to be a ride or die situation with this band of turtle mutants and pressing Leo for the information may be one of the only ways to find out why, but acting like I care about his supposed performance of explaining it is beyond me.

What the hell is wrong with me?!

"Alright." Says him. He sits up a little straighter, one tapered hand clutching the hilt of his sword and the other rubbing the cloth along the thin steel face. "Here it goes."


	9. Chapter 9

I talked Mikey into getting some lunch with me after my conversation with Leonardo. I would've been more than happy to have eaten by myself if it weren't for the fact that I don't want to be left alone with my thoughts, so his company was very much needed. The orange-banded reptile's continuous blabbering is perfect for tuning out the thoughts coursing through my conscience. I thought I'd get at least 15 minutes to stop thinking about what Leonardo had told me and enjoy a nice, not-so-silent meal. But like with many things, I don't get my way.

For some strange, unknown reason, Mikey refuses to talk. For the very first time since I met him, his mouth remains closed. And although it's only been at least two days since our first encounter, I doubt this is a natural habit. Even as I eat in front of him, his lips don't part, which again, isn't normal in the least because I was there when he 'd scarfed down cookie after cookie not so long ago even when he and I knew he wasn't hungry. Instead, he just sits there, chin resting in his hand, his head tucked into his shell, and baby blue eyes transfixed on the scraped tabletop. This worries me.

I know I said I shouldn't be getting attached to these people because I'll eventually be leaving soon on my own accord, but something inside of me is pushing empathy into my thought process. I'm tempted to ask him what's bothering him. I mean, it wouldn't hurt, right? It's just Mikey, there's no harm in trying to console him.

Yet there is. If I were to actually coax him into sharing what's on his mind, it'll be a form of bonding. And it's bad enough we baked cookies together like regular people do in their spare time (I'm still very much unsure of the normalities of society, so I'm not sure if that's what people actually do), and having yet another hang out session will be too much for me to handle. Even this lunch is pushing it.

We're not friends, we're not pals, we're not buddies. We're not even acquaintances. We're just two people who can't be amongst regular humans for own personal reasons (one being that their physical appearance will freak them out and the other is mentally unstable. Which one is which is for you to decide) and have a knack for reaching for a snack when we're bored.

I try to focus on my meal instead of indulging on my thoughts. I've come to realize just how much I've been missing out on in the woods. Pizza, soda, chips, and most importantly, chocolate chip cookies. How did I live so long without these delicacies? Greasy, gooey, cheesy slices of pepperoni pizza causes saliva to ooze from my mouth. Fizzy, bubbly, chilly Pepsi hits the spot. Crunchy, salty, tasty potato chips are an explosion of flavor on my tastebuds. And sweet, crumbly, chocolatey cookies are as soothing as a bubble bath. I feast upon these foods like I hadn't had a decent meal in weeks, and we both know that this is a true statement.

But they barely delude me of the bothersome thoughts running laps around my cranium as if they're training for a marathon. So many things had been passed between us, Leo and I, some many things that baffle my very beliefs.

Sure, I'm presently living *cough*house arrest*cough* with a quartet of teenage mutants who are half man-half turtle and have a giant rat for an adoptive father and call the sewers their home. Yet involving teleportation, aliens, walking-talking rhinos and warthogs, along with a genius scientist who is in league with a villain who runs his own evil ninja clan in New York City is a bit much. As believable as it may seem, I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around it.

I mean, seriously? If I didn't know any better, I'd say that this plot would make the perfect story for a comic book loving teenage boy who absolutely adores sci-fi and action-packed, fictional tales of mutants and heroes. Am I right or am I right?

"Hey," He suddenly speaks up. I perk up at the sudden sound. The contrast of the silence of the lair and his voice is startling, like getting shocked by an electric socket. "Uhhhhhhh…" he ventures uncertainly, seeming at a loss for words. That makes two of us. "Sorry. I don't know what to call you."

Right. Because I don't have a name. Yeah, what a pity.

I raise my eyebrows in expectation. "Uh-huh." I draw out.

"Um… anyway. I think I'm gonna go and check up on Raph and… ma-make sure he's uh…"

"Not breaking something?" I finish for him, playful smirk snaking up my lips.

I get a chuckle out of him, the first one in an hour. "Yeah." He stands with a grating squeak of his chair and I watch as he disappears into one of the many rooms lining the compound, thudding footfalls like the thumping of a heart.

The slice of pizza that I've just taken a bite of turns to paste in my mouth, glueing my mouth shut. I can't bring myself to eat. It's okay, though. I've lost my appetite, anyway. Yet I shove the rest of my lunch down and stand up to wash the dishes. Can't waste food like that.

It still feels strange to turn the handle of the faucet, the chrome metal cool to the touch and the valve's rasping are a surprising noise to my ears. Even the sound of the rushing water gushing from the spout is alien to me. The simplest things such as a running sink and dish soap makes me feel more of a freak than I could have ever imagined. Being so unaccustomed to everyday household appliances is the very definition of being a psycho, wouldn't you agree?

Now don't get me started. I don't want to hear anyone of you say, "Oh, it's okay." Or, "It's not your fault." First of all, I don't want your pity. As appreciated as it is (gotta be honest, it isn't), I don't need it. And second, I know that it's not my fault that I'm this way. I wasn't the one who wiped my brain and dropped me off in the middle of fucking nowhere and decided to join a band of mutant vigilantes to complete a near impossible mission. I didn't do this to me!

Somone, some dipshit of a nutcase who thought it would be funny to mess with a little girl (such as myself) did this. Some asshat twisted and maniacal enough to brainwash a kid like me and dump me in the middle of the forest did this. Someone who's smart and powerful, enough to have the required materials to clear out all forms of memories of my past life straight out of my skull like a professional scientist, did this. Some sorry piece of shit who has a sick sense of humor and thought it to be funny to do this to me.

I bet they probably went off to tell the rest of their insane psycho friends about their little hobby. I can just see it: "Oh, hey Paul. Remember when I said how it would be hilarious if someone who didn't remember anything had to survive in the woods all by themselves? Yeah? So I did just that and—I don't know who, I just picked someone at random—and I wiped her brain with all that cool techy stuff I'm rich enough to buy and placed her in the woods. HAHAHAHAHA! It was so funny! Can't you just imagine how freaked out she must be?! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Goddamn! Aren't I just a little ray of sunshine?

Yet as convincing as that may be, it doesn't quite click in my head.

Nah, that's not how it happened. I had to be brought here for a reason. I have to have some sort of purpose, right? I mean, don't you think there's some good reasoning behind me being lost and alone and suddenly thrown into something this big as saving the city, if not the world? As cruel and perverted as it is, what if it's for the greater good? What if I'm some kind of prodigal daughter meant to save mankind from the wrath of a great being who wants to destroy all that is good and living like a demigod warrior preparing to battle an almighty, evil monster?

Yeah, right. When turtles fly.

The rag in my hand scrapes over the ceramic face of the plate smoothly, the bubbling soap suds tickling the skin of my wrists. The flesh of my hands are red with heat from the steamy water, but I don't mind. I have naturally cold hands so the warmth feels nice on my chilled fingers. It's a prickling feeling, a pleasant sensation like hovering frozen fingertips over a cozy fireplace on a dark, winter night.

A commotion of shuffling and hushed words catches my attention. I look up to see the Red Wonder himself storming his way to where Leo's training with Mikey on his tail. I can tell that Mikey's in a frenzy to get his brute of a brother to stop and turn the other way by the frantic way he pulls on Raph's arm desperately.

Oh, God. What did he do now?

Mikey's attempts to divert his brother's direction barely fazes the red-banded reptile as he continues to march forward. At one point, he can't take anymore of the smaller turtle's pleads and shoves Mikey away in the face. He gasps as he stumbles and falls to his knees, the tangle of beaded chains and necklaces roped around his neck clink together loudly. Mikey doesn't seem offended by Raph's harsh actions, instead he seems even more out of sorts.

"What about our hip hop Christmas album?" He calls out quietly but audibly.

I don't know what all of that's about, but something is about to go down and I'm not gonna miss out on it. However, I probably should respect their privacy for the sake of reverence, but considering that… well…

You know what? To hell with it! I don't give a flying shit what they say or think about me watching them bicker. While I live under their roof, I have a right to know what exactly is going on at any given time. Not sure if that's how it works when guests visit your house, but it doesn't matter. My mind is made up.

I drop the rag and turn off the faucet before following Raphael in hot pursuit. He hasn't seen me or knows that he has a tail, which is fine with me. We come upon Leonardo who busies himself with sword practice.

I wouldn't call it sword practice, per say. It's more like ninjitsu mixed with acrobatics and gymnastics. I'm sure that your average, ordinary karate kid couldn't do a double backflip while throwing a spinning katana up in the air and catching it midflip without slicing his head off and then swinging the blades around your body while still flipping around like an airborne baton until your nothing but a floating blur of silver and green.

I stop mid step as he continues to perform this feat of athleticism and talent.

I can't even do a cartwheel and here he is, more than qualified to join the world's greatest circus for their most dangerous daredevil act and come out of it unscathed.

"Pop Quiz," Raph calls out to the leader in blue. Leo's head swivels sharply as he takes a quick break, katana blades clutched in his hands, bouncing on the balls of his feet, focused on his younger brother. "What are the three most important traits of the ninja?" Raph asks rather calmly.

What? Why the hell would he ask that?

Yet Leo doesn't seem to find the question odd in the least. In fact, he looks to actually like it.

He smiles crookedly. "Speed." Leo answers, swishing the steel swords in front of him, more for show than actual training. "Stealth." His breaths come out short and whistle through his teeth as he thrusts his swords to and fro, almost as if tisking. His chest heaves slightly, the rugged plates of his plastron flexing handsomely. Sweat gleams on his leathery skin, pronouncing the dark, green pigment of his muscles.

I'm not saying anything about his physical appearance, as magnificent and goddamn hot as it is. I'm just stating facts.

"And honor." Raph interjects as he steps onto the platform where his leader stands. Leo stops and turns to his counterpart completely, blue eyes meeting green. "Where's the honor in keeping secrets from your brothers?" The red-banded reptile grins mockingly. Leo's cerulean orbs flicker in a perplexed manner, but it's small and almost unnoticeable, but from where Raph's standing there's no doubt that he picked up on it.

Secrets? What secrets? Is there something going on around here that I'm not aware of, aside from hunting down Shredder and his Foot Clan along with two giant mutant criminals and stopping them from whatever scheme they're planning in the shadows?

"I don't know what you're talking about." Leo says, shrugging his shoulders innocently and rotating his position so that he no longer faces his brother. He tries to resume his training, but Raph remains on the podium, not quite ready for his little interrogation to be over just yet.

"So now you're adding lying to the list."

"If you're referring to what Donnie told me about the purple ooze," Leo states, sheathing his swords above his head. "It's called compartmentalization of information." He turns around again in another attempt to ignore the second turtle on the platform. Leo starts throwing practice punches, staring straight at me. Whether Raph doesn't see it (as obvious as it is) or he's wanting to put up a fight, he stays where he is. Either way, it just proves that he's still as stubborn as an ox.

Secrets. Purple ooze. Donnie… Oh shit! He knows! He knows about what Donnie had discovered in his lab and what it can do!

Dammit! That's not good!

But how? He had to be there in order to know, and if not him then someone else. But you'd have to be super stealthy and quiet to-

Oh my God! You've got to be shitting me!

They're fucking ninjas, for crying out loud! You know; sneaky, silent, stealthy ninjas. Of course they would've figured it out one way or another. I imagine it's hard to keep something a secret for long in a house full of trained ninjas who were raised for such acts of furtiveness.

But… wait! Why is it such a big deal that he knows? I remember Leo being so strict and making it clear to not tell his fellow brethren of the purple ooze's abilities, and I think I may know why, but how come it has them all riled up about it?

"If there's even a chance that ooze can turn us human." Raph growls, voice straining with arising anger.

Oh. That's why.

"We're turtles, whether you like it or not." Leo remarks without looking back at Raph. His gaze remains on me, pleading for help to break this up.

For some odd reason, I decide to lend a hand and do my best to disperse an oncoming argument. But… lets just say I'm no professional when it comes to lying.

"What's going on here?" I ask, announcing my presence.

Raph wheels around and does little to nothing to hide his disgust at the sight of me. "None of your business, that's what." He barks.

Alright. Point taken. Let's try again.

"Easy there, tiger. I just want to know what's going on. Maybe I can help."

That's what they want, right? For me to help them with everything that's going on. That's the whole point of me being down here. They said so themselves.

"Yeah, right." He scoffs. "Either you want to help out around here or you're just here to watch the show."

Uck… no. That's, like, so not true.

…

Shut up, reader!

"No. I'm not." I lie, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Of course, that is unless you wanted to watch us argue and report it back to your master Shredder." Raphael rants, his grimaced face scrunching together as if he just lick the inside of a lemon. "Going on and on about how pathetic we are and how and your Foot Clan buddies are going to squash us like bugs in battle."

Okay. That was a bit much. Not gonna lie, I'm starting to get a little pissed off here. But it's okay, it's okay. Just gotta keep my cool.

"Cool it, Raph." Leo bites.

Guess I'm not the only one who is getting peeved by Big Red.

Raph disregards him and suddenly flashes his teeth in a devilish grin, a mischievous glint in his moss green eyes. "Or did you just come in here to make googly eyes at my brother."

THAT'S IT!

"Why you sorry son of a bitch!" I hiss through grinding teeth. I advance in a fiery march of spite, my vision clouded by a red fog and my face burning with pure rage. A gurgling snarl rises in my throat like the roar of a lion and I am just about to pounce on him when (as per fucking usual) Leo intervenes. His hand grabs my shoulder, his fingers digging into my trapezius muscles, thumb pressing into the hard bone my collar. I try to make another move on him again, this time with my clenched fists at my sides screaming to start swinging.

I can just see it. My balled fist will arch upwards and slamming into the soft meat of Raph's nose, a spurt of blood exploding from his slitted nostrils. He'll lumber backwards, cursing and croaking as he caresses his face, the athletic tape of his hands spotted with the red blood that'll match his mask.

I'm gonna slug that sorry smirk off his sorry, stupid face for his sorry, stupid comment and beat the sorry, stupid shit out of him! I'm gonna slug him right in the nose just like he deserves!

That is until Leo places another firm hand on my right shoulder, his grip more painful than the first. I come to find that I can no longer take another step. My knees are locked and my feet are flat on the ground, and the pressure Leo presses on me forces them to stay that way. I might as well be trying to take a step out of hardening cement. Leo's hold on me is so powerful that he literally has me grounded with his bare hands. I try to swat them away. I push and pull at his tethered hands to lift his iron grip off of me all the while swearing and growling like a rabid dog.

I'll beat the fucking living daylights out of his sorry excuse of a noble brother.

That… that… ASSHOLE!

That sorry goddamn asshole! How dare he?! HOW DARE HE?! Why I oughta…

"Let me the fuck go!" I screech.

It's Leo's turn to act out of anger. "Stop it! Right now!" He buzzes, heated with annoyance. His hands tighten and squeeze my shoulders, threatening to bruise and crack a few bones.

A part of me knows that he wouldn't hurt me or anyone in a million years if not necessary, but even if he would I still would be fighting him to tackle that smug, shit face of a turtle known as Raphael.

"You're not helping!" He continues. He finally lets go and pushes me back gently, but firmly. The look in his eyes is enough to light a pile of firewood and start a campfire in a flash.

Thank God I have enough nerve stay where I am before I take another whack at attacking the crimson-banded reptile.

"It's not about what I like," Raph speaks up, grabbing Leo's attention back to him. "It's about what people are willing to accept."

"True acceptance only comes from within." Leo wheezes out as he strikes a few more punches, making an effort to restart his training. But the blows are shaky and tense, no longer graceful with the tranquility he had possessed once before.

"Don't give me that fortune cookie muck!" Raph snaps. "You should consult with us before deciding to do something like that."

"I consulted Donnie and her, and we decided-"

"Wait!" Raph interrupts. "You told her," He indicates to me, "but not us!" He looks mortified at the fact that I knew before he did, that I knew such valuable information.

Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to get involved in this.

My ears tingle with an unpleasant warmth, very much unlike the blissful faucet's hot water. Is this a form of blushing? And if so, why am I blushing?

I'm frustrated? Yeah. Yeah. That's why. No other reason. That's it.

"Where does your loyalty lie, Oh-Fearless-Leader?"

"It's not like tha-" Leo tries to defend, but Raph continues his ranting spree.

"And what about Mikey?" He pushes Leo forcefully."He don't get a vote?"

Leo snaps like a rope suspended over a candle, the flame scorching away the braided ties rapidly turning into splintered, charred twine. It was only a matter of time before he broke.

"There's only one vote that counts in this family. Mine."

Ouch.

The two stand still, face to face, eye to eye. Each one as stiff as a board as if waiting for the other to spring into a brawl, both of them taunt like the string of a bow preparing to release a deadly arrow. The tension in the room thickens to pudding, dense and heavy, and emanates from the two fuming turtles.

"Leo!" Donnie cries out from a short distance. It's hard to say if he and Mikey had been there the whole time or just showed up because I haven't cared to note their whereabouts. It doesn't really matter, though. I'm almost positive that they heard the whole thing without being at the scene. "An alarm just triggered at the Hayden Planetarium. We gotta go."

Leo steps off the platform with a thunderous thud that vibrates through the floor, fists curled at his sides and lips pressed into a tight line. "Gear up, Donnie." He stomps to the other side of the room, each stride like a pounding beat of a kick drum. He rudely bulldozes Mikey out of his way, and like he had when Raph had done so not too long ago, the younger turtle doesn't seem too disturbed by it.

Is he used to this kind of treatment? I mean, they're all boys. They pick on and bully each other constantly, whether as a joke or in offense. Yet I'm pretty sure that both times were by no means meant as a laughing matter.

"You two stay here." The blue cad mutant commands. He points to me. "You're coming us."

Wait! What? I'm going with them? Like, up to the surface? On an important mission?

I'm so flustered at his strange orders that I start to trail behind him on instinct.

"You're benching me?!" Raph yells, clearly insulted by his leader's choice.

"Call it what you want!" He yells back. I continue to follow him to the exit.

Not just a day ago I was trying to run away from this place and these creatures who basically kidnapped me for fear that they would harm me in some way. Now, a full day later, I am now escorting them above ground on an important expedition.

My my, how the tables have turned.

"What did I do?" Mikey bellows after us, just as upset as his hot-headed brother.

Donnie catches up to us after a quick apology to the other two. I look back to do the same, but the way they look at me causes me to whip my head back around. Raph looks like he's about to explode like Mount Vesuvius. With all the lava and spewing fire and smoke, the whole enchilada. I could've sworn his face turned red with the fever of his temper.

And Mikey… Mikey looks anguished. Despaired at the circumstances that his own brother had picked a stranger over him. That Leo had, in fact, consulted me before him.

A sickening twist of my stomach almost makes me double over at the thought, but I keep walking. I will not give into regret and guilt because I was picked over two brothers who had every right to know first. One way or another, I was going to betray him. I just didn't think I'd do so in this way.

Author's Note: For those of you still reading this, I want to thank you for your commitment. Trust me when I say I know what it's like to wait on a story that is still not finished. So for your patience and tolerance with my lack of productivity, I applaud you. Thank you for your support and comments. It means a lot to me. and stay tuned!


	10. Chapter 10

Donnie is such a fanboy. I don't say this to make him seem like some kind of nerd in a bad sense because… well… I don't know.

Okay, maybe he is a nerd, maybe he's not. But the fact of the matter is that there's so much more to him. He's smart, resourceful, creative, and super talented. Just labeling him as a geek won't be able to describe the absolute wonder Donatello is, and that's excluding the fact that he's a reptilian mutated experiment as well as a butt-kicking ninja warrior. He's the whole package.

"The Hayden Planetarium. I've always wanted to come here." Donnie says as he stands on the large orb of a planet that dangles from the ceiling.

At first, I was worried that his extra weight—specifically a couple hundred pounds—would result in the thin string to snap and he'd plummet to the ground and we'd have to scrape bits and pieces of Donatello off the walls and floor.

Anyway, I realized something, though. One, the string is surprisingly strong despite being the width of a spider web. From what I can tell, it was made for such tasks, manufactured to hold large objects with large masses. And two, Donnie (an approximately 300 lb reptile-man) is not only light in terms of weight compared to his duplicates, but is also agile and accustomed to doing stunts that involve falling from high up places. So he's pretty much safe.

"Quit fooling around, Donnie. The cops will be at the door in thirty seconds." Says Leo as he jogs to the center of the room. My gaze roams about the exhibits on display as I trail behind him, lost to the world of space and the wonders of the galaxy.

I don't think I've ever been to this museum. Maybe in some other life, I possibly could have crossed paths with the establishment, but as of late it's a new experience for me to scratch off the bucket list. I would've felt something familiar about it, wouldn't I? Like deja vu, and duh! Don't you think I would've said something if anything was ringing a bell recently? Hell yeah, I would've! But I haven't so… yeah.

And sure, I may be somewhat educated in terms of science-y stuff like the Big Bang Theory or whatever, but the reality of just how big the universe is and what little I know of it leaves me speechless. So many possibilities and worlds and planets and stars, all of which are millions to billions of miles away, some that are yet to be discovered, lay in wake here in this very museum for people to feed their brains with this valuable knowledge.

I guess you can say I'm a little… starstruck!

Bwahahahahaha! Do you get it?! Because I'm fascinated… and there are stars in a galaxy… like in space… never mind.

"Hey! You with the face." Leo shouts. I snap my head to him, taken out of my little daydream of such wondrous findings just waiting to be devoured by the hungry minds of children. He waves me over. Apparently, I'd stopped walking when I saw an exhibition on types of stars and was left behind.

Huh. When did that happen?

"Come on. You're worse than Donnie right now."

I huff and trudge to where he stands. "What? You got something against learning?" I remark in a joking manner.

So get this! Because I'm trying to prove that I'm not some spy for the notorious Shredder and his little band of Foot soldiers, I have taken upon myself to be good and act nice. Yeah. I can be a goody-two-shoes, believe it or not.

So, therefore to not act like a complete asshole, I thought that maybe if I warm up to the brothers' better nature, maybe I won't be totally treated like some kind of invader. Maybe they'd finally accept the fact that I am not working for some Japanese terrorists and just want to figure out exactly how I came to be. plus, I could rub it in their sorry faces for days to come and I'd never get tired of reminding them of just how totally wrong they were to accuse me. Wouldn't that be something?

Cross your fingers, guys. I'll need it if this is going to work.

"No." Leo returns. "We just don't have the luxury of going on a field trip." He paces in place slightly, unintentionally telling me that a certain someone is a little on edge. He faces me, wringing his wrists anxiously and popping his fingers mutely. Wow. He's more wound up about this than a brand-spanking-new clock. "Besides, I didn't think you of all people would be into this kind of stuff." He says, raising his arms up to the room around him decked out in planets and models of galaxies as if for emphasis of my unexpected interest in the field of astronomy.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I say, offended. I don't know why, but his comment triggered some kind of flash of anger. As if he had said some kind of insult.

Why? Again, I have no idea.

He must've noticed that what he had said had a rather negative reaction because his sapphire eyes widen and he raises his hands up in surrender. "Oh no no no. I didn't mean… Okay, I have nothing against education or what a woman can and can't do with it." He rambles. "And I don't doubt the measure of your intellect," he adds as an afterthought, "it's just that… I don't know… um… what I'm trying to say is that-" He rubs the back of his neck nervously.

"That you're surprised that I would be into something so consequential as space?" I interrupt to put a halt to his blubbering before he can give himself an aneurysm.

God, the guy really needs to take a chill pill.

"Well, yeah but-"

"But what?!" I bark with a little too much fire than necessary.

"But I'm not trying to make it sound like you can't be!" He nearly cries out. "Women can do anything a man can do and do whatever they want and… what? Why are you laughing?"

What was once a quiet giggle has turned into a full-on belly-clutching laughing fit. I can't help it. Here he is, the great and mighty Leonardo, the one and only leader of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, stuttering away like a nervous wreck for supposedly saying something so inappropriate as to downgrade a woman's knowledge and her rights of what she can and is allowed to do in this free country.

Oh my god, he's such a worrywart.

"What' so funny?" He asks, a mirthless chuckle escaping his green lips, more out of his jumpy state than his humor. I can only imagine how much tension is building inside of him, on the brink of combustion.

Seriously, I expected Donnie to freak out like this. But Leo…

"You," I say through a hiccup. He frowns, a crease forming in the space between his blue saucers.

You've gotta be shitting me. Do I need to spell it out for him?!

"Chill out. I know what you meant." I say when my chortling ends. I take a deep breath to relieve the growing aching in my belly from all that laughter. Damn! Who knew laughing could be so much fun? "And I know that you aren't some sexist pig trying to lecture a girl of what she is capable of."

"Oh." He lets out a sigh of relief, a pink tint inking his cheeks slightly.

What the hell? Is he blushing?

"I just thought that you might take it the wrong wa-"

"Okay okay. Leo, listen." I interrupt him. "It's fine. I'm not upset about it. Really, it's no big deal. Just drop it, okay?"

"Okay." He says a little shakily.

Huh? Something must be really bothering him. Poor guy.

WHOA WHOA WHOA! What just happened?!

Did I just admit to feeling pity for him?! For having sympathy towards my hypothetical enemy?! The guy who threw me over his shoulder like a goddamn sack of potatoes to keep me from running away… TWICE?! The guy who wasn't afraid to fight brutally to help me see the reason for my staying?! The only person who talks to me like I'm not a complete shit wreck of a person?! And makes me feel like can _actually _be someone who can aid them in this inconceivably impossible mission of salvation?!

Absolutely fucking not! Why would I feel any sort of remorse for him and his problems?! Why in all of hell would I do that?!

I don't know I don't know I DON'T FUCKING KNOW!

It's okay. It's okay. It's nothing. This is nothing. It means nothing.

Just don't think about it. Don't think about it!

But I am thinking about it I'm thinking about it and I can't stop thinking about it!

Okay. Calm down. Calm down.

Dammit! I'm acting just like Leo!

Stuff it down inside and… maybe it'll go away?

Yeah. Good plan. Very good plan. Just stuff it down and it'll go away. Very good plan.

I can literally feel the intrusive thoughts begin to sink like rocks in a pond to the pits of my beings and down to my toes. And ever so slowly, my mind clears of any oncoming hysteria and I 'm able to process what is going on around me.

Thank God! The last thing, the _very _last thing, I need is to have a fucking meltdown in the middle of this secret operation.

Leo seems to let it go as he calls Donnie down again, and this time the purple-clad turtle actually descends from the giant ball that resembles a blue and white marble. He lands with the grace of a cat and immediately gets to work. He flips a switch at the side of his headgear where a beam of light shoots outwards from what has to be a mini projector built into the bulky glasses perched atop his bald head. He swivels around, the light scanning the room for whatever clues he can find and also managing to temporarily blind a startled Leonardo.

"Donnie!" He yelps, blocking the bright beacon with his hands held up to his face.

I cover my own eyes before I, too, can fall victim to the harsh light. The genius doesn't seem to notice the consequences of his careless actions as he continues to observe his surroundings with the stream of pure white surveying the exhibits. It finally lands on a bulbous rock formation roosting proudly on display. He shuts off the light and approaches it with the hushed clomps of his brown boots to accompany him.

"Yep. Shredder and the mutants were definitely here." He speaks, now tapping away at the rows of buttons on his wristband that now forecasts screen-like images from the cameras settled on Donnie's head and shoulders. Mainly it shows equations and paragraphs of text rambling about science crap and all that junk.

"And you know this how?" I ask, stuffing my hands into the large pocket of my new, April-purchased New York City hoodie. Black with the white words in Transitional text across the chest, the inside fuzzy with cotton weaved through the material. It's a bit bigger than necessary, the hem going past my hips and the sleeves obnoxiously falling down my hands, but it's nice. I like it. Though I mainly chose to wear it because I thought that the night would be cold (which it is) but also as an unreceived thanks to the brunette and her generosity.

So what if I have a heart?! It's not like I'm some soulless jackass who doesn't do acts of gratitude towards others. I _am _a human being, for crying out loud!

He doesn't answer me. Instead, he just continues to study the data in front of him. "And I'm detecting traces of… neutronium." He pauses. "The key ingredient in creating a controlled black hole. Which… is the only thing able to break the space-time continuum."

What. The hell. Is he talking about?!

"And you know what that means?" He turns to us, looking as if he had just discovered a new deadly disease that will wipe out the human race from the face of the earth. I return his look at him blankly, blinking at the amount of absolute science and… I don't even know anymore. I'm still stuck on whether or not neutronium is a real element.

"What?" I ask because I don't know what else to say.

"No, I do not know," Leo answers after a pause, still trying to blink away the effects of Donnie's bright light to see properly.

"It means that Shredder may not be as crazy as I thought." He says, flipping the incoherent screens off.

"You say that as if he isn't the leader of an army that tried to intoxicate an entire city with truckloads of chemicals just to make some rich douchebag even richer." I assert.

"Can we please stay on topic?" Leo states.

"Fine," I mumble, rolling my eyes. "Jesus Christ, no need to be so edgy."

"From the data I collected," Donnie carries on. "I can concur that whatever was inside of this, Shredder can use it to open a portal to another dimension."

"Wait! So you're saying that this rock thing was… wait! What?" I snap.

I'm not sure if you've noticed, but right now I'm having a teensy bit of trouble trying to understand exactly what is going on.

…

OKAY FINE! A lot of trouble. I mean, wouldn't you?

All of this information is confusing me more and more with each second that ticks by. If someone doesn't break this down into tiny pieces for my stupid brain to comprehend, I think my head will implode on itself.

"So remember when we were on the interstate the other night and we tried to catch Shredder?" Donnie says to me, sensing my befuddlement. And being the patient teenager he is, he's willing to tolerate my thick-headedness and walk me through it. Great. Even more kind acts to be indebted to.

"Yeah."

"When we were just about to grab him, he vanished in thin air and with further inspection, we discovered that Baxter had a teleportation device and used it to free Shredder from police custody." He says, pushing his glasses up his nose to prevent them from falling down further. "We're assuming that for some reason there's more to this than we first guessed. That it's possible that they're on the hunt for more alien technology."

"... okay. But how would they know where this alien tech would be?" I ask.

"I've concluded that they have some kind of employer or inside voice who's telling them where to find these pieces of mechanical devices. They have to have had something to do with the machines being on earth in the first place and can be using Shredder and Baxter as errand boys to gather them."

"But what for?"

"That we don't know." Donnie remarks.

"Okay, but what I want to know is," Leo interjects, "if you go to open a portal… what's coming out of the other side?" He says, not willing to hide a grave expression.

I haven't thought of that. I don't think any of us have thought of that.

Someone, someone who has a profession involving the supernatural and life outside of our atmosphere, has the almighty and powerful Shredder and his little doughboy Baxter Stockman tied to the end of a string, using them as puppets for some unknown plan that can either be really good or really, really bad for us. The fact that he's using a criminal organization with a psychopath—who intends to start wars that result in massive, worldwide genocide—for their master, one of the greatest minds of our generation, and two meatheads that are now a humanoid rhino and warthog, it's probably the latter.

This is worse than I thought.

"Come on. We better get out of here." Leo says, gently tapping my arm.

Guess I was lost in thought again.

I nod in affirmation and the three of us race to the exit.

**And the plot thickens! DUN DUN DUUUUUUUNN!**


	11. Chapter 11

"Don't drop me don't drop me don't drop me don't drop me." I hiss quietly.

At this point, I have been chanting this statement under my breath for the past half hour. Trust me, you would be too if you were clinging to giant mutant turtle for dear life as he jumps from rooftop to rooftop. And not just the rooftops of simple, small buildings. Oh no. I'm talking 40-50 something story tall skyscrapers in the smack dab middle of New York City.

I absolutely refuse to watch. When I did, I watched as Donnie leaped across a space between two buildings and I thought he was going to plummet to his death. Instead, he gracefully landed on his feet and continued to run forward, jumping again and again.

Nearly hypnotized by the acrobatic feat, I didn't feel Leo pick me up and start sprinting till we, too, were airborne. I shrieked as the alleyway, a full 40 feet below me, flashed by. My stomach clenched in a nauseating manner as the reptile leader's feet crashed into the hard ground of the roof. He stopped for a moment, looked at me curled to his chest with those godforsaken sapphire orbs for eyeballs, and spoke softly.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

It was such a simple question. So simple that even in my state of shock I should've been able to answer. Yet when I did, I sounded like a crazed woman who just saw a man get murdered.

"I'm f-fine." I stammered.

"Are you sure? You don't have to do this, you know? If you want, we can take the subway or even-"

"N-No." I interrupted. "That'll t-take t-too long."

Why the hell am I stuttering?! There is absolutely no need for it. But I can't stop. I can't fucking stop!

"Th-The s-sooner we g-get th-there, the s-sooner we c-can st-stop." I stuttered uncontrollably.

Leo seemed hesitant, torn between the task at hand and my hysteria getting the better of me. But even I knew which was more important, and being the one in charge, he had to go with his head and not his feelings. Still, that didn't mean I liked it.

Without a word, he adjusted his grip under my legs and back and started to run and jumped again, and again, and again.

That was when we had come up to the surface. We had made it the American Museum of Natural History and left in a matter of minutes. Yet with every rollercoaster of a jump, with every soaring building that flies by, every gut-wrenching churn my stomach; it feels like hours. You'd think that by now I would've gotten used to it, at least a little. But no. I can't watch the scenery of the city, the stream of cars racing below me without nearly screaming. And I don't want to scream. I've survived an animal infested forest and the escape of the most dangerous criminal on the planet on a highway with motorcycles, bombs, a helicopter, and a giant garbage truck armed to the teeth with weaponry. Freaking out over something as small as heights is just downright stupid. It really is.

So for the rest of the way, I remain scrunched up in a fetal position, pressed to Leo's chest, eyes screwed shut. I can feel the large plates of his plastron compress against my cheek, cool and hard. His arms, muscular and taunt in all of their masculine wonder, cage me in, almost protecting me. The heat radiating from his body is more comfortable than I would have ever expected. And he smells of something, something manly and simple but distinct. It's not so strong as to say that it's intoxicating, and not so pungent to identify it as cologne. But it's there and I like it.

If I wasn't such a prideful bastard, I would say that it was nice to be cribbed against Leo's lean torso. But I am, so I don't say anything.

After a while, though, I'm sure that I'll explode at any moment. And no matter how hard I try, I can't help but whine quietly. Unfortunately, Leo hears me and directs us away from the towering skyscrapers to the underground subway.

This is much better. All I really have to worry about is not slipping off of the top of the subway car that races through the tunnels at a million miles per hour, but Leo's hand wrapped my middle is there to prevent that from happening. The car rocks and squeals against the rails, the only source of light in the dark cavern. The wind whips into my face, hair billowing into knots. This is _much _better.

I'm not so sure I would've preferred riding on the inside of the subway car than on the outside. Sure, sitting down on a seat where I'm free from the howling wind while hitchhiking on the roof of a subway is much safer, but that would mean I would have to deal with people. I'm not saying that I don't have a problem with people in general. It's more or less the fact that _I'm_ the problem. Just look back at what happened with Casey Jones when we first meet. Wouldn't want something like that to happen again. And with Leo's presence, I feel safe atop the car.

I know I shouldn't. I know full, goddamn well that I shouldn't want him here at my side like some kind of loyal protector. I know I shouldn't want him near me, let alone be touching me. Yet the way he caresses my waist, how is his hand is so big that his palm touches the lower half of my ribs all the way to my hip, is… I don't know what. But I don't want him to stop.

A sudden tweeting noise sounds off and my head snaps to the source. It comes from a small, walkie talkie device duct-taped to Donnie's leather backpack strap. He clicks on a button in which picks up the call.

"Hey, Mikey. What's up?" Says Donnie.

"_Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!" _Mikey's all too familiar voice crackles through the device hysterically.

"What's going on?" Leo asks, alarmed.

"_The Foot Clan have the purple ooze! We need backup at police headquarters right now!" _Mikey hurriedly says.

Wait! The Foot Clan have the ooze?! The Foot Clan as in the terrorist organization that just freed New York's most dangerous criminal? And purple ooze as in the substance that turns humans into animals and animals into humans?

By the terrified expressions on the two mutants' faces, the answer is yes and yes.

This is bad. This is very bad.

"Hang tight, Mikey. We'll be right there!" Donnie urges hastily before ending the call. He stands to his feet cautiously.

"We're on the move." Leo says as he does the same, pulling me up with him. And without an explanation, we jump right off of the subway. I scream as we launch through the space of air and roll onto the curved, metal roof of a new subway car. I grasp onto Leo's abdomen as far as my arms will allow me, eyes shut.

After a moment, I peek them open and observe Leo as he carefully crawls up to the front of the car, one arm propelling him forward and the other wrapped around me securely. He looks forward, focused and calculating, completely unfazed by the fact that we just nearly fucking died! And so does Donnie.

What the actual hell?!

They must be used to this kind of stuff. Me on the other hand, not so much.

I take deep breaths, nostrils replenishing his scent. I chance a glance at our first subway that's going in the opposite direction. All I can see is the tiny pinprick of white emanating from its headlight growing smaller and smaller by the second. The area separating the tracks is only 10 feet wide. One wrong slip when we'd jumped and we'd have slammed right into the subway itself or onto the rails of the subway car.

Damn! Am I glad that didn't happen.

"Hey!" Leo yells over the racing wind. I look up at him and nearly bump my head into his chin. His face is so close I can count the scales crowning his temples and forehead. "You good?"

"Yeah. I'm fucking fantastic," I say a little too sarcastically. I glance at the speeding floor of the tunnel, a blur of brown and grey. "I just love riding subways, especially on top of them where I can fall and die. I live for that adrenaline rush, man."

He chuckles, unexpectedly mirthfully. "I bet."

A short, breathless chuckle escapes my chapped lips. It relieves a swelling bubble that formed when we had taken that supposed leap of faith, and now it's slowly deflating. It releases the knot of tension that painfully twists in my stomach.

A ghost of a smirk creases his lips. "Sorry. About all of this."

"It's fine." I voice.

Suddenly, I'm flooded with heat, my cheeks aflame. I turn away immediately. I hope he can't see the redness that has most likely stained my face. Maybe he's found a way to set me on fire. I doubt it because he turns away and the uncomfortable warmth still plagues my neck.

What the hell is going on? Is there something wrong with me? Am I sick?! Have I suddenly caught some rapid disease and I now have a fever? If I'm lucky, it'll kill me before I can die of the embarrassment of being as red as a tomato.

—

The police headquarters is in complete and utter chaos. Even from up here, across the street at the top of a brick building, I can hear the mayhem unfolding within. Screams mutely echo through the walls, smoke fogs the windows, and figures dash to and fro through the thick of it all.

Leo puts me down and steps up to the ledge. "Stay here." He orders.

Before I can protest, he and Donnie are already off, racing to the scene.

Dear reader, please keep in mind that I am a teenager, a rebellious teenager at that. And when it comes to listening, and I am very aware of the fact that it might be important, it goes in one ear and out the other.

So what do I do? Well, I don't wait. Instead, I find the nearest fire escape and climb down it as fast as I can.

You may be just thinking of this, and if not, then I shall enlighten you. You're thinking (maybe) that I am all alone. That I am unattended. That this is my chance, maybe my one and only chance to make a run for it. To escape from these reptilian beings and into the streets of New York. I can finally, _finally _get out of here. The thought makes me smile with glee.

But as soon as I reach the bottom, I don't run. My feet remain glued to the cement under my shoes. And for some inexplicable reason, I don't want to leave. I don't want to run away. For the first time ever, I'm doubting myself.

Am I really going to go through with this? Am I willing to take the risk of living on my own, stripped of any identity, my only valuables still in the hands of my kidnappers, living the rest of my life looking over my shoulder for fear that the four brothers would hunt me down?

Absolutely. But when it comes down to it, can I actually do it? Can I really do it? No. I can't.

It's hard to explain, and more than anything I wish I could understand my own motives. All I can say is that something inside of me is pushing me to stay. I mean, I had a plan. I had a motivation, a passion even, to run away. As you remember, I swore I would. And I want to but… this something is holding me back. To stay in the security of the sewers and, if only for a little while longer, stay with the vigilantes.

I run to the sidewalk bordering the police station.

Leo and Donnie just crashed the party, literally. Much like a scene from an action movie, they swing through the window, a thunderous rain of shattered glass spraying into the lobby. They slam into two masked men wearing black suits and armor (I assume they're part of the Foot Clan) and land in a fighting position, ready to engage in battle. Raphael stands over one of the fallen Foot soldiers, a vial the size of a soda can in his three-fingered hand. He and Mikey inspect it with child-like wonder, an eagerness that shouldn't be there but is ever so present.

"Raph! What are you doing with that?" Leo yells out.

Is that the purple ooze? It looks like it.

I step inside the broken window to get a closer look.

It is.

A chill runs down my spine.

There's so much of it.

"Freeze!" An officer rounds the corner and barks out, holding out a gun. We turn to him immediately. "Don't move! Don't move!"

"No no no!" Says Raph panicky.

More officers come into view, guns at the ready, yelling out commands such as "Hands up! Freeze! Stop right there! We will shoot!" The brothers stand at attention, nervously swiveling their heads like cornered mice. Leo suddenly catches sight of me and pulls me to him. I huddle to his side for fear of what the men and women in blue-clad will do next.

"Get down on the ground!" An officer with a bald head and tan skin yells out.

"Wait! We're the good guys!" Mikey pleads hastily.

"Get down on the ground!" He screams louder.

Slowly, we get on our knees, hands raised above our heads. There are at least a dozen officers surrounding us, guns aimed. By the wild look in their eyes, they're frightened. You can tell by the way their hands shake as they grasp their weapons. My spine prickles with sweat and my heart's beating a million miles an hour.

This is bad. This is very, very bad.

"What are those things?" Baldy asks.

"They're monsters." A man with short brown hair whispers hesitantly. He sneers. "They're monsters!" He bellows loudly, a fiery edge to his words.

Although I'm sure the words aren't directed at me, his statement stings, liking being burned with a hot poker. There is a rage in his tone, a sudden spark that has lit an inferno of panic throughout his fellow brothers in arms. I can see it. Through the furrowed eyebrows, in their glares, even in the tightening of their triggers, they hate us. They hate them, the turtles.

"We're not monsters." Mikey squeaks weakly, his voice breaking. He looks like he's on the verge of crying. My innards ache at the notion.

Suddenly, two beings fly into the room in a flash of cloth and hair. A man and a woman race before the armed policemen, waving their arms frantically.

"Don't! Don't shoot!" The man screams.

"Stop! Don't shoot!" The woman cries. She turns to us and-

April? April! And is that Casey? What are they doing here?

"Don't shoot!" She says. Looking over her shoulder, she says, "Go!"

Wait a minute. Is she… saving us? Are Casey and April saving us?

"Go now!" She howls.

You don't have to tell me twice.

We get to our feet and in a blink of an eye, we're off. Leo scoops me up effortlessly and hops through the vacant window and into the night.

I'm glad that he's able to function properly because now my body is but a rigid statue. It's hard for me to wrap my head around it all, everything that just happened.

"They have a kid!" An officer calls out. "After them!" Their thudding feet follow after us, but after a while of running and rooftop racing, they fade to silence.

April and Casey had just saved us. They had saved us when they could've just left us alone. They could've let us fall into the hands of the authorities, to be questioned, poked and prodded at, and put on display like circus animals. The brothers would be shown to the world like freaks of nature and I'd most likely be sent to an asylum for a severe case of crazy. And yet April and Casey had saved us. This means that capture, be it from our enemies or New York's police force, is not an option. This mission, their very existence, is meant to remain in the shadows. And now they're exposed.

I hold onto Leo's forearm, not for balance but for assurance. What is to come for both the brothers and me is now but a blurry sheen of fog.

—

"It is all over the police scanner. They are hunting you. What happened?" Splinter asks urgently as we walk into the lair.

Leo storms through the room, each pounding footfall of his heels vibrates through the floor and up my legs. The others follow behind, just as peeved.

"Tell him, Raph." Leo barks out. "Tell him how you broke rank and got us all exposed." He snatches the silver and purple vial from his red-banded counterpart and shows it to his sensei. "And for the most selfish reason."

"The Foot was going to get their hands on it anyway!" Raph growls.

"You didn't know that!" Leo retorts.

"Stealing from police headquarters is no scenario where you wouldn't get caught!" Donnie rambles, hands clutching his bare head.

"If you hadn't lied to your own flesh and blood," Raph responds. Donnie bows his head, looking ashamed, "and give away our secrets to a total stranger." He motions to me, eyes alight and full of fire. I stare daggers at his head, suddenly angry.

"At least I didn't break into police headquarters and reveal your very existence in front of the cops," I say through clenched teeth.

"Oh, yeah? Well, at least I don't bite people and call them assholes!" His voice rises with intensity, and so does the rage boiling in the pit of my stomach, my anger brewing in a hot cauldron. "Or keep secrets from my brothers." He turns to his leader in blue who faces him.

"Oh! Like the way you lied to April?" Leo returns heatedly. "And now she's taking the fall for your mess."

That about shuts him up. Raph stands their, mouth opening and closing like a gasping fish and for once, is at a loss for words. A smirk snakes up my lips at his change in attitude, but it quickly vanishes when Mikey enters the conversation. Or, more accurately, when he starts to speak to his master.

"You should've seen the looks on their faces." He whispers. He slides down to the floor, his shell leaning against the candle-strewn podium. His baby blue saucers glisten with oncoming tears, his face ashen. "They weren't just… scared. There was… actual hate." He says, head hanging from his neck.

He looks so… depressed. So scared and crushed and more than anything I want to sit down right next to him and let him pour out his heart. Is that weird? I mean, again, I barely know him, and yet I have the motive to be by him in his time of need.

And do I do so? Do I aid him in his time of need, become a shoulder to lean on? No. I don't.

Splinter places a gentle hand on the younger turtle's shoulder. "It will be alright, my son." He reassures. "People fear what they do not understand." He takes his hand away, sending a forlorn look at the orange-clad reptile, and heads for his other son, Leo. Said son struts away from his fellow mutants to a corner where a caged door streams bright, white light. I follow the giant rat. "You can't walk away from this." Says the sensei.

"I told him, Master Splinter, but Raph, he never hears a word I have to say." He glimpses to the hot-head of a turtle. "I knew they couldn't handle the truth about the purple ooze and, you know what? They proved me right." He pockets the vial into a loop in one of his belts.

"Leonardo!" The rat says sternly, but gently.

"I don't know what to do! Donnie's nose is in his computer. Raph's brains are in his biceps. And Mikey's head is in the clouds. I can't get them all on the same page. To think with one mind."

"You shouldn't want them all to think the same. It's their different points of view that make the team strong. A good leader understands this. A good brother… accepts it." He finishes before turning away and walking to another part of the large lair.

Splinter leaves me thinking that he's right. Different perceptions bring different elements to offer at the table. Different angles of the scene and different opinions on how to go about their plans. Variety is the spice of life, right? Yet I'm not so sure that Splinter meant that having such diverse views should come together only to dispel into mayhem. Because at this point that's all there is.

Leo grits his teeth, pacing back and forth, practically fuming. He grumbles under his breath, incoherent from where I stand just six feet away from him. I watch him warily, the light glinting off of his green skin.

In this state, I don't know what to expect of him. He's unstable, like a hazardous bomb set to go off. A grenade with its string halfway pulled.

He finally notices my presence and returns my gaze, electric blue orbs glowing with buzzing fury. He sighs and rubs the back of his neck. It seems to calm him down. "Was I too hard on them?"

"What?" I ask. I'm not sure I heard him right.

Is he asking for my opinion? Like it actually matters?

"Was I too hard on them?" He repeats. "You know, about them breaking into police headquarters."

"You're asking me?"

"It's either you or Master splinter, and he's already said his part."

I ponder on his words and huff when I remember what Raph had said earlier. "Don't you think it's bad enough I knew about the purple ooze before your brothers did? And consulting their leader with his decisions on how he treats his brothers is just crossing the line." I cross my arms and stare at the floor, my sneakers becoming of great interest to me.

"What are you talking abou-" He cuts himself off and loosens up at his own realization. "Is this about what Raph said earlier?" I don't respond. He knows the answer. "Oh, come on. Don't listen to him. He's just being his usual jackass self."

I nod slightly. He's not wrong, I guess.

"Listen," he takes a step closer and I force myself to meet his gaze. He's so close I can see the grooves of his plastron where I was once pressed against, where I once found comfort in his embrace. "He may not trust you, and he has every right to." He voices softly. "I do as well, but I choose to trust you."

"Why?" I ask, clearly flabbergasted.

He pauses before speaking again. "Because you're scared. And confused." My eyebrows jump to my forehead in surprise. "And I may not be able to understand what you're going through, but I do know that being patronized for it is the last thing you need. And if Raph can't take it upon himself to show a little respect, then I sure as hell will."

I blink at his words. Wow. Just… wow.

"You… are way too nice." I return with a humorless laugh.

He chuckles. "At least you think so."

I smile at him and he returns it. It feels good to smile.

"Guys? I got something!" Donnie calls to us from across the lair. We both turn to the direction of his voice and dash to it.

"Talk to me, Donnie." Says Leo as he jogs.

We make it to the computer station where the purple-clad genius types away at the keyboards. The other two reptile brothers gather behind their intelligent sibling, hovering over his shoulders. I make sure I stick my tongue out at Raph before focusing on what Donnie has to show. I can practically feel the steam blowing out of the red-banded turtle's ears and I swell with pride.

"The computer's pinpointed the isotopic signature of the purple ooze. I can track Bebop and Rocksteady's exact coordinates." Two green dots pop onto the screen. "I got 'em! They're at 6,000 feet, traveling at 490 knots!"

"Whoa! They achieved the power of flight! Good for them, you know?" Mikey cheers gleefully. He looks like a completely different person than he was just minutes ago. He grins widely, his expression all too perky, but I know he's only masking his emotions.

It's like the old saying, "The person who smiles the most cries the most tears."

"They're on a plane, Mikey." Donnie deadpans.

"Oh."

I giggle at his antics and the way Donnie reacted to his younger brother's statement. They're just too funny.

"It looks like our mutant buddies are heading to Brazil." Donnie continues.

"How do we get there?' Asks Leo.

"By sneaking onto the next cargo plane at JFK." Donnie states.


	12. Chapter 12

Trying to convince the guys into letting me go with them was no easy task. I had to go to each individual one by one and persuade them into letting me tag along. Mikey was fairly easy, Donnie took some convincing but was able to get on board with the idea, and I refused to confront Raph about it. It would've been like trying to talk to a brick wall, the asshole. Leo and Master Splinter were harder obstacles, _especially_ Leo.

I mean, I get it. It's a dangerous mission. Traveling all the way to the tropical rainforests of the Amazon where we'll most likely confront a group of Shredder's lackeys and his personal mutant errand boys, Bebop and Rocksteady. The possibilities of the mission going wrong are endless, and Leo says he doesn't want me to be at the expense of such horrible outcomes. He made it a priority to tell me every few seconds, drilling it into my skull.

Yet after a full hour of arguing, he finally agrees, mainly because he just wants me to shut the hell up rather than permitting me to come.

Finally!

So here I am, quickly slipping on a more appropriate outfit for the occasion. A black T-shirt, cargo pants, combat boots, and a camouflage jacket.

I'm not sure that when April had picked this out that she thought that I might assemble a decent looking outfit, something more stylish than the plain blue top. Maybe she did, maybe she didn't. Yet all I know is that if she had had it in mind, she didn't consider the sizes too well. The shirt is way too long, the pants are baggy, the sleeves of the jacket flap at my sides, and there's a full inch of space between the head of the shoe and my toes.

The thought of the reporter strikes me harder than expected. I barely know the woman, and yet she's already treated me with more kindness than I could ever ask for. She's given me clothes and protection, sanctuary and security one might say. And now she's locked up inside the police headquarters being interrogated for the presence of the mutants.

This is a dangerous mission, one that I am by no means prepared for. If things go right, we'll return home victorious. And if not, the fate of the city and possibly the world will be thrown downhill.

I shouldn't be doing this. I have no business in any of this shit. I should be trying to escape as I had _promised, _but nOOooOOoo. I just had to put my bitchass nose where it didn't belong and get my sorry self enlisted to go to fucking Brazil. But the lingering urge to plant my feet into the ground like the roots of a tree has me clutching the hem of my jacket harder, refusing to flee.

What the hell does that mean?!

I don't know. But only two things are for certain; one, there is no way I can back out of this now and two, if I don't come back I'll never be able to thank April for her good deeds to me.

I stuff the extra fabric of my top into the pants and shove on an extra pair of socks to fill the emptiness. I shoulder my bag that holds my possessions; the journal, the stuffed animal, and the ring as well as few extra things from April's duffel bag; and follow the boys out.

Sneaking onto the plane is one thing, but the flight is what makes me regret ever talking them into allowing me to come the most. We have to sit in the compartment where suitcases and animals are held because we can't be exposed to the people sitting in the air-conditioned, comfy seats of the coach.

God fucking dammit! I regret this.

It's been hours since I've had a whiff of fresh air. And if that's not bad enough, the compartment is stifling hot as fuck. Sweat tickles my temples, collecting under my armpits and the back of my legs. I am _so_ glad I'm wearing black or else I'd have to hide the pit stains.

Jesus fucking christ! It's hot!

I rummage through my bag to pass the time. I write a few shitty entries in the journal, take a nap with the purple and orange hippo-like creature as my pillow, and play around with the ring. The ring itself is the same as it was the first time I saw it. The butterfly is the size of my fingernail, still and lifeless. The turquoise stones embedded in its wings aren't anything spectacular, but petty enough. The loop of metal is a pale silver although it's lightness proves that it's nothing of value. Any jewelry loving person would write it off as a piece of shit, not worthy of being worn. But to me, it's beautiful just the way it is.

Why? Why of all things was I given a ring? Does it hold some kind of secret? Will it prove to be of use to me aside from being just an accessory? Is it mine or does it belong to someone else? I don't know.

I slip it onto my ring finger. It's a perfect fit.

Leo saunters over and sits across from me on a sturdy wooden crate filled with coats and hats. I should know, I dug through it out of sheer boredom. He clasps his hands together after wiping at a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead. The light from the half-dead light bulbs and windows of the plane are shadows compared to his glowing blue eyes. They shine like moonstones in his sockets.

Don't think about that don't you dare fucking think about that!

Focus! Focus on the mission.

"You nervous?" I ask.

"No," he answers. But by the way his eyes dart back and forth, the way he wrings his wrists and pops his fingers one by one as he had at the museum, shows that he's definitely nervous. I know the feeling.

"You?" He remarks.

I want to tell him that after fully realizing what I've gotten myself into, I just want to wait till the plane lands and walk away from all of this. That I wish I"d never stolen that stupid motorcycle and snuck into a chariot of Foot ninjas and get involved with these turtle vigilantes and go back to being the girl who had no identity. That I desperately wish none of this had ever happened.

"You really shouldn't do that." I motion to his hands. I avoid the subject because I don't want to say out loud that I'm scared shitless, especially with the Incredible Hulk aka Raphael so close by. "I hear it's bad for you."

He drops his hands in between his legs, elbows resting on his knees. "Guess I shouldn't, huh?"

"Guess not."

He pauses. If he had picked up on me dropping the subject or not, he doesn't say anything about it. And for that, I'm grateful.

I look at him. And when I say I look at him, I mean really look at him. For the first time ever, I see past the leaderly figure of stability and order and witness with new eyes the anxiety and fear underneath it all, like a building built over the ruins of another. I see the worry lines crinkling the corners of his eyes, the crease of his brow, and the utter exhaustion clinging to his form. He wears it like an invisible cloak, and the heavier it gets the more tired he becomes. He may have the others fooled, but I can see past it.

Suddenly, I take his hand and hold it in my lap. He flinches but doesn't pull away. I feel his eyes, those big ass, gorgeous eyes trained on me, but I keep steadfast on the hand that had held me so many times rest on my knees. His hand is huge compared to mine, his palm nearly three times bigger than my own. I wedge my fingers around his knuckles and the inside of his hand and start to rub at where I believe he's most sore. I dig the tips of my fingers between bone and muscle, massaging the tendons back and forth expertly.

Leo, as surprised as ever, can't help but sigh in relief. I smile to myself.

I do this for a whole hour. I don't know how I know how to massage hands, but for what it's worth I'm pretty good. Everything I do, from squeezing his palm repeatedly and smooth over his bandaged fingers to running over the hard ridges and hills of bone in his wrist, are done with skillful, practiced movements.

After a while, he switches hands and I do it all over again.

Fuck! I shouldn't be doing this. Again, I shouldn't be doing this!

If I've said it once, I've said it a million times. THEY ARE NOT MY FRIENDS! They are my enemies! My nemesis, the sole reason why I wanted—er, want to run away. It's hard enough to hang out with just one of them and now only two days later I'm massaging their leader's hand.

What the actual hell is wrong with me?!

"Ugh." Mikey groans behind us, waving a paper at his face to fan himself with cooler air. "Aren't there supposed to be, like, pretty steuradists handing out warm hand towels and stuff?"

"Not down here, Mikey," Raph grumbles as he tosses his rubber ball against the wall again and again. "Not for us."

I roll my eyes and go back to rubbing out the tight muscles at the base of Leo's thumb.

"Oh boy!" Donnie intervenes loudly. "Bebop and Rocksteady are en route back to New York."

"What?" Leo stands to his feet and I release his hands. He goes to his purple-banded brother's side where the genius' display of transparent screens is in full view. The other two turtle's and I stand to our feet and look at the half-visible 3D images.

"They must have already retrieved the last piece they need to open the portal," Donnie announces.

Two animated planes zoom lazily over a holographic globe. One is ours and the other must belong to the mutant rhino and warthog.

"It looks like our planes will intersect with theirs, right?" Leo notices, pointing to where the two aircraft models fly, one about to go over its counterpart.

"Yeah, with a 3,000-foot separation. Uh, I can plot a course to intercept, but we'd have to jump."

"Jump?" Raph asks, his mossy green eyes growing wider.

Wait wait wait wait. Did he just say jump? Like out of the airplane?! Out of the goddamn motherfucking airplane?!

"Donnie, please forgive me, but I thought you had just said the word 'jump'." I say.

"I did."

"O-Oh." I stutter, my knees starting to shake under my cargo pants. "Good to know."

Donnie treks over to the door panel and pulls at a nearby, slender red lever. A loud click resonates throughout the room and the door slides open with a whir of its gears. I'm immediately blasted with stunningly cool air that dries the sweat off my body. I squint as it gets wider and wider until it stops. The world outside the now open door is bright, blue, and green. The sky beams in all its wonder above a lush jungle that stretches for miles and miles. The plane holding the two other mutants and the new piece of alien technology is before us, hundreds of feet below.

I feel small. Insanely small, like an ant on the top of the Himalayas in the middle of a windstorm.

"Oh, boy!" Raph gasps. His once rich green face turns a sickly pale Veridian. "Guys, I don't think this is such a good plan."

Wait a minute! Is he scared? Is the big, strong hulk of a mutant scared?

"Aw, come on," Mikey urges playfully. "Don't get soft on me now, Raph! This is gonna be fun."

I almost smirk at the red-clad turtle's cowering figure, but then a gush of wind slams right into me and I nearly stumble to the side. My lungs short circuit at the motion and I quickly stand to my feet, clutching a nearby box for support, gasping.

Guess he's not the only one who's terrified of heights.

Before I can forget, I compose myself and run back to snatch up my bag, tying the end strings around my waist in a complicated knot.

Now it won't fly away.

I hurry back to the others.

"We gotta go now. We only have a 30-second window." Donnie says as he tucks away his screens. He stands inches away from the open door, his pants flapping against his legs. "You know the plan." And then… _whoosh!_

OH MY FUCKING GOD!

He's gone! He just jumped! He just fucking jumped!

I stand there, motionless, staring at the spot Donnie was just a split second ago.

"Uh, dudes?" Mikey says next to me. He matches my reaction to the disappearance of his older brother.

"What?" Leo retorts as he helps Raph strap into one of the many parachutes hanging off the wall, both of them turned away from the scene of vanishment.

"He jumped." I answer.

The two turn and see for themselves.

"He jumped?!" Raph screams.

"Alright, one for all," Leo states as he goes to the open door, the tails of his mask flapping like flags in the howling gale. He turns to me, his hand held out to me in a gentleman-like manner. "Care to join me, m' lady?"

I giggle anxiously.

Is he crazy? Didn't he just witness for himself his own brother fly out of a moving airplane? A flying, moving airplane?! How isn't he terrified that we're thousands of feet away from dying?!

His gentle grin graces his lips smoothly, cool and calm. I clasp his outstretched hand, the hand I had caressed ever so tenderly not so long ago, and he pulls me to him. I hook my arms around his middle and before I can even brace myself, we are launched into the outside of the plane.

"Wait! You don't have a 'chute!" Raph squalls as we descend.

At first, there's pure panic. My brain flashes white and I can feel my heart stop in my chest. I yelp and clamp my eyes close, sheltering into the inside of Leo's side.

Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god...

I'm gonna die I'm going to fucking die!

After what feels like an eternity (it's actually, like, two seconds), I take a peek at the whirling atmosphere of wind. It's absolutely breathtaking… literally. It's almost as if I'm floating through a whirlwind of blasting air. My stomach twists at the sensation of weightlessness.

Holy shit! This... this is amazing!

A maniacal smile takes over my mouth and I laugh breathlessly at the beauty of freefalling, my eyes watering. I feel like a falcon zooming through the sky, diving faster and faster towards the ground.

How hadn't I felt this before when we were running and jumping the skyscrapers of the Big Apple? Was it because of the hectic crowdedness of the city? Maybe the anxiety of swinging up and down like s roller coaster? Or maybe even how here the air is fresh and clean, the sky riddled with fluffy white clouds instead of the murky blackness of the night.

Leo whoops blithely next to me. His smile's even bigger than mine, a wild look in his blue eyes glints against the sun's rays beautifully.

He's breathtaking.

Before I can reprimand myself for thinking like that, I hear cheering above me and I glance back to see Mikey zip after us on his rocket of a skateboard.

"This is awesome!" He yells gleefully.

We continue downwards, flying like daring falcons.

I'm almost convinced that I actually am a bird of prey, soaring through the sky alive and just… free! I wish I had felt this way when we were back in the city, running and jumping over the giant skyscrapers of the concrete jungle.

From what I can depict, we're falling fast and hard. Our landing spot is the plane. Donnie waits for us, tethered to a rope tied around the lower body of the aircraft.

And we're heading straight towards the wing!

"Uh... I-I'm off." Leo bellows over the whistling of the rushing air. "I'm off. I'm off target!"

Oh no!

Not good! Not good!

"We're off!" I scream. "We're off."

"Need a lift, bro?" I hear Mikey holler, much louder than before.

Something big crashes into us and it takes me a moment to realize its Mikey coming to the rescue.

"Slow down, Mikey!" Leo yells, his face half blocked by his younger sibling's forearm.

We flail around in the air, falling towards the plane but now directed more to the left.

Any second now…

"Prepare for the 'ouch'!" Mikey calls out.

We crash into the hot, steel surface of the plane hard and roll down its back. Leo instinctively curls around my body and I cling to him for dear life. "Ouch!" We yowl in unison, tumbling and tumbling until we nearly ram into the tail of the airplane. Donnie snags Leo and Leo snags me and I snag Mikey by his nunchucks. We thrash in the wind, a chain of arms hanging onto one another as the speed of the plane propels us forward. We slam into the large structure of the tail and I cry out in pain, my nose throbbing on impact.

"I got you!" Leo cries.

"Hang on, Mikey!" I scream, clenching the wooden weapon in my hand tighter for fear it might slip. Something wet coats my lips. Licking them rapidly, I conclude that my nose is bleeding.

Dammit!

My arms are being pulled harder and harder and they feel like they're two seconds away from being torn straight off of my body. Leo yanks me to him and grasps around my waist and hands me to Donnie while he pulls up Mikey. We trudge upwards against the strong gale to where Donnie has made a makeshift anchor for us to be bound to.

"Lock in!" Donnie commands. We do as he says, the brothers using their belts and me using a length of excess rope to loop around my waist.

Wow! That was… exhilarating!

If that isn't the understatement of the century, I don't know what is.

My hair billows at the back of my neck, flying free from its ponytail. the sides of my jacket flap furiously at my sides as I ground my boots into the roof of the plane. I clutch the rope in a vice-like grip, the braided strings digging into the flash of my palm.

"Wait! Where's Raph?" Donnie asks, clutching his end of the rope. I peer through the racing wind and the intensity of the sun's glow to see if the jackass of a hothead has yet to follow us. Nothing but an endless blue sky and the rainforest underneath us. The plane we'd been on previously looks like a toy above us, like the ones you hang on your ceiling with string when in contrast to the void of blue above.

Scaredy pants, I think to myself wryly.

A dot of green comes shooting straight out of the hull of the plane, speeding downwards like a bullet.

Oh! Wait. There he is!

"Isn't he falling kinda fast?" Mikey asks.

He is, in fact, falling super fast.

If he doesn't slow down, he'll miss the plane in all!

The green blob that is Raph suddenly sprouts a cloud of green and yellow, his parachute thrusting him upwards. He would've breezed over the nose of the plane if he hadn't collided with the front of the cockpit. Momentarily, there's no movement. Then Raph slides off on my left and smacks into the wing of the plane, slipping and sliding as is parachute is sucked into the engine not three feet away from him. The mutant turtle clutches the front of the wing and is losing his grip fast.

"Raph!" Leo barks out. The leader in blue leaps, swings off of his rope and catches Raph right before he could be swept away into the millions of miles above the jungle. Raph stabs the side of the plane with his _sai_, pinning them to the aircraft securely.

"Nice catch!" He cheers.

Author's Note: DUN DUN DUUUUUNNN! Hahaha, I left you guys on a bit of a cliffhanger, didn't I? Sorry, I really am, but y'all are just gonna have to wait. This chapter is a little shorter than most, but that's mainly because there's quite a bit of action in it. Don't worry, though. The next chapter is going to be crazy! Stay tuned for more!


	13. Chapter13

**Author's Note: Heads up everyone! It's been awhile since I last posted and all for a good reason. I've been going through all of my stories, including this one, and fixing grammar and other mistakes in every chapter. It's taken longer than I anticipated, but I'm happy with the outcome. Before reading this, I highly suggest rereading the story. It'll make a lot more sense and matches the current writing style. If you don't want to, it's all good. I won't keep you waiting any longer. Anywho, let's get on with the show. You guys are in for a treat!**

**Lights! Camera! ACTION!**

We unlatch ourselves from Donnie's makeshift anchor and scramble into the side door of the plane, the wind nearly blowing us away and into the thousands of miles below. Leo yanks me inside after a gust of powerful gale almost steals me away from his arms. My feet meet solid ground with tumbling feet, my arms wrapped around Leo's lean abdomen as my backpack slaps against my back, and I've never been more grateful for something so stable. Whether I'm talking about the ground or Leo's stamina, I'm not sure.

Once inside, Donnie goes to close the door before we can be blown away only to find that we're surrounded. Half a dozen men dressed in tight black suits and masks rush toward us, only stopping to unsheathe their weapons. They raise their katanas high above their heads in defensive positions, silent and patiently waiting for our first move. It's another batch of Foot soldiers, like the ones from the police headquarters.

I do not like these guys. Not one bit.

"The good news is: you're wearing chutes." Raph says to them, sais in hand, more for show than fighting at the moment.

"Chutes." Mikey repeats playfully.

"The bad news is… " Raph ventures, taking a step forward.

One second the 6 men are armed and ready to fight and the next I'm watching them float away on their parachutes after the turtles flung them straight out of the plane.

Damn! I'd hate to be one of those guys.

Donnie finally closes the door, cutting off the wind from snapping at our backs and we make our way in. Blinding, round bulbs beam down on us in a harsh, white fluorescent light, casting shadows along the cargo. Boxes line the walls in high, neatly stacked columns, some covered with tarps and others strapped down with bungee cords. That is all, except for a single package. A wooden crate about two feet tall and a foot wide is perched atop another box, standing out amongst its counterparts. It's like every other package in the cargo hold, except that it's unlabeled. And being unlabeled means that it must be exactly what we're looking for.

Just so you know, I didn't think that up myself. I just so happened to be listening to Donnie as we made our way through the room in search of Shredder's oh-so desired missing piece.

May I remind you that I ain't smart like him? I mean seriously. I told you this: what? Two, three chapters ago?

Leo and Mikey grab the sides of the crate and tear it open easily, the nails and wood splintering to the floor to reveal a contraption I've never before seen in my life.

Imagine a trophy with a vase-like body slitted with yellow and grey metal and topped with some kind circular head like that of an old, tin cup. But then think of it as some kind of weird alien tech, so it's all shiny, curvy, and glowing, like they make it look like in sci-fi movies. Now picture it all in your head, all of that mumbo jumbo, encased in a glass box.

That's as best as I can describe it, so you better have a pretty good imagination to see it for yourselves.

"Okay. This must be what they came to Brazil for." Leo asserts.

The others gather around it in curiosity. I do as well, squeezing myself in between Leo and Donnie. I place my hands on the rough surface of the bottom crate, splinters brushing the palms of my hands. The device in front of me beams with artificial life, glinting against the clear glass. Up close, it looks more threatening than I had anticipated.

"It's an interdimensional portal thingamabob!" Mikey comments enthusiastically, the purple essence of the device radiating off of his boyish green features.

"Well, there's probably a more technical name for it, but…" Donnie corrects, inspecting it closely like a scientist at work.

"I don't know," I retort. "I kinda like what Mikey said. Sounds intelligent."

"Har har. You're a comedian." Mikey returns, grinning childishly at me through the prism of class, his smile warbled and purple. A grin of my own makes its way to my lips and-

God fucking dammit!!! Not again!

What did I say?! What did I just fucking say?!?! They are not my friends! They are not my friends! They are not my fucking friends!!!

How many times do I have to tell myself that before it sinks in through my thick ass skull?

"Hey! You're bleeding!" Mikey points at me, baby blue eyes wide with horror.

Oh shit!

I immediately swipe at my nose, streaks of red shining on knuckles. I wipe my hand on my pants hurriedly, hunching my shoulders like a cowering turtle hiding its head in its shell.

"I'm fine." I mutter, speedily trying to wipe away the trickling crimson like I haven't nearly broken my nose.

"No you're not." Leo states in my ear, almost rigorously as he hovers over me.

Putting aside that my cheeks flush with intense warmth when his breath beats against my ear and the fact that his face is a mere inch from my neck, I refuse to face Leo when my nose is a fucking faucet of blood. Yet I don't have to look at him to know that he's kneeled down to my eye level, his expression riddled with worry. He tries to turn me towards him, his giant hands firmly gripping my shoulders, but I plant my feet as heavily as I can, my own hands covering my mouth and nose.

Great. Now I've got the mighty and powerful Leonardo's shell in a bunch. What next?

"Uh, guys?" Raph says.

I look up at Big Red the "Fearless" Turtle (I still can't get over how Mr. Macho here has a fear of heights. I'd rub it all in his face, if I could) only to see that he's looking somewhere else, to his right to be exact. Raph grabs at the top of Mikey's head and with poised fingers pressing into his brother's temples, gently directs the orange clad reptile to where the red-banded turtle's attention has turned. Mikey gives a short, humorless laugh upon seeing it.

"Oh boy!" Says Leo after he catches sight of whatever it is Raph has seen and the leader stands up. He pushes me behind him protectively, sheltering me from our unexpected visitors.

I just had to say something, didn't I?

Peeking from behind Leo's bungling, clothed forearms, I witness Mother Nature's most monstrous creations saunter toward us. Two creatures stand on their hind legs not six feet away in all their gritty, grueling, 8 ft. wonder. One is a rhinoceros don in cargo pants and a worn leather vest, his arms entwined with dark tattoos that pop against his rough, grey skin. He breathes heavily through flared nostrils, his icy blue eyes watching us from under a heavy layer of flesh furrowed on his brow, each one gleaming menacingly from the sides of his humongous horn.

The other is a very hairy, very husky warthog in similar clothing. Folds of his belly fat hang over his black pants as his thick, purple-flame-tattooed arms clench into fists. Beetle black eyes peer over his pig snout as an animal-like noise squeals from his thick lips, yellowing tusks protruding from the corners of his mouth.

Immediately, I know that these two monstrosities are none other than the mutated versions of the low life criminals known as Bebop and Rocksteady. And I doubt they came in here to give us a warm greeting.

"Dude! Bringing back the mohawk?" Mikey asks lightheartedly. "Good for you!"

Now is not the time for formalities, Michaelanjelo!

"Ha! Y'all got jokes, huh?" The warthog speaks as he straightens out the spiked locks of violet atop his head. "But let's see how funny you are after we bash your heads in!" He pounds his fist into his palm and charges, the floor shaking with his thunderous footfalls.

Leo instinctively lets me go and races toward his attacker. Just before he can strike, Bebop swings out his arm and slams it right into the blue clad turtle's chest, causing him to fall on his shell with a loud bang. On the other side of the crate, Raph is tackled by Rocksteady, a hard and fast attack that would've easily taken out a Lineman on the Jets' football team. And just like that, a full-fledged battle unfolds before me.

Pop Quiz! Question: Have I ever been in a fight before? Like a real fist-to-face fight with split lips and black eyes?

As far as my short-circuited brain can take me, the answer would be no. So you can imagine my uncertainty when said battle takes place.

Suddenly, I'm yanked by the arm and into the side of a familiar being. Donnie stands in the middle of the fight, ushering me into his secure embrace as he holds up the alien device high above his head for safety.

"Watch it!" The purple-banded brother cries out as Mikey swings his nunchucks back and forth at the battle hungry warthog mutant, nearly connecting with the back of Donnie's head. "Careful!"

From behind Donnie, I watch as Raph lifts up the boulder of a rhino and throws him all the way to the other side of the plane, the impact an explosion of shattered wood.

Seeing that we're practically in the kill zone of this little war, I grab Donnie by the inside of his elbow and pull him away, towards the front of the room. Crates and packages are stacked along the wall, perfect for cover.

Just as we get there, an ear splitting pelting sound rings out, almost tsking. I turn to see what it is only to be shoved onto the floor violently. I slam face first into the hard metal of the ground, another burst of red gushing from my nostrils as a heavy figure prowls over me.

OW! What the fuck was that?!

It takes me three seconds to register that the sound was that of a gun. A big one with fast, loud, and deadly bullets, and are being continuously aimed straight at us. And the one and only person that's here to protect me from the line of spitting bullets is none other than Donatello, who curls himself around me.

If it wasn't for him I'd have more bullet holes puncturing my body than there are holes in Swiss cheese.

Dammit! Now I'm really in debt with these guys.

A rain of wood fragments and blasting bullets pours down on us for a solid ten seconds before they cease. Carefully, Donnie stands from his crouched position and helps me up, the strange contraption still in his clutch. I graze past his side, cautiously overlooking the room with one hand cupping my bleeding nose and the other hooked to Donnie's clasped hand.

"Dude! Seriously?" Bebop calls out to his comrade flabbergastingly a stone throw's away from us.

The other turtles stand up from their hiding places, seeing that we aren't being drawn and quartered by a lethal machine gun. The room is trashed. Nearly everything on our side has been mowed down to scraps from the spray of lead.

"Yep, that's my bad. I got a little carried away." Rocksteady, who's perched himself in a conveniently present war tank and proves to be the one to nearly gun us down, says in a thick Irish accent as he raises his hands up in surrender and off the handlebars of the giant gun.

Suddenly, the plane lurches with a piercing whistle and I fall to my knees, wrenched from Donnie's grasp. Looking up, I see that not only did the tank take out the stacks of boxed cargo, but a good portion of the front of the cockpit.

Oh my- That's not good.

The sky spirals with the jungle in swirls of blue and green and brown through the gaping holes of metal as the plane spins out of control. My stomach does backflips as the room turns and turns sickeningly. I grab onto the first thing I can find as the ground becomes the ceiling and the ceiling the ground, clutching the rope to a tied down, mangled box for dear life, now dangling from the roof of the aircraft.

Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my fucking god!!!!!

All of the contents, from the leftover crates to the battling mutants, tumble with the motion of the aircraft in a cyclone of blurred color and noise.

What the hell is happening?!

Mikey appears from the tornado of scrambling contents and frantically bounces around the spinning cabin to grab ahold of the lost alien tech.

"I got it!" He yells when it's in his grasp.

"I'll take that!" Bebop proclaims as he snatches it straight out of the ninja turtle's hands and zooms away through the air.

"I don't got it!"

A box nearly chucks itself at my face before I swing myself to the right so it doesn't smack me upside the head. With a sickening turn, the plane swivels back to its upright position and I slam into the ground, my hip bone nearly cracking. I only have a second to wince at the pain before the turning starts again and I fumble for the rope, this time only one hand is able to grab on as I'm suspended in mid air.

Holy shit! Holy shit!!!

"Don't worry guys, I'll level out the plane!" Donnie cries out as he climbs his way back to the front, dodging a flying crate the size of his shell and probably three times the weight of it.

"Donnie!" I scream. My fingers burn as the rope digs into the flesh of my hand and I'm sure that if I let go I'll get sucked into the storm of cargo and mutants and crash into someone or something. Maybe fatally.

He turns to me and in the blink of an eye, leaps into the air, snatching me up and grabbing the back of the pilot's seat, hanging off of it with our feet flying behind us. I snake my arms around his neck tightly, squinted eyes watching the purple don mutant grunts with effort as he pulls himself to his feet with one arm and into the cockpit while the other he cradles me to his chest.

Said cockpit's roof has been completely torn to shreds by the tank's gun's previous blast, hunks of metal flying off, charred and smoking. Wherever the pilots went, they certainly aren't in their seats.

Maybe it's a good thing, for them at least. But for us, it just proves to be yet another obstacle before we can get ourselves out of this mess.

"And there's no cockpit." Says Donnie.

Well, he ain't wrong.

He plops me in the copilot's seat as he sits himself down and fervently grabs a hold of the abandoned wheel, pulling on it furiously.

The roar of the plane's engines whine in my ears deafeningly along with the rattling of the brittle, fragmented walls. My eyes are half blinded by the streaks of black smoke emitting from the bullet-gauged cabin, my clothes snapping at my skin, my hair billowing out of its ponytail and flying free as the wind strengthens, our downward descent steepening. The ceiling's gone, the twin windshields are empty frames with nothing but shattered glass wedged in their corners, and the view of the incoming jungle grows bigger with every second.

In a panic, I mash every button and pull every lever on the control panel as much as my little grubby hands can touch.

"Nothing's working!" I yell at the top of my lungs, banging my fist on a row of yellow squares that refuse to respond.

Oh my god! We're gonna die!!!

Donnie's still pulling on the wheel when it suddenly pops straight off of its holster in a burst of yellow sparks, the snapped end spewing wires and chunks of metal. A maniac alarm goes off at this, as if the plane had just realized that we were in deep shit. Donnie's jaw drops into a big 'o' as he stares at what's left of the wheel. I'm sure my facial expression matches his.

Oh shit! That's not good! Definitely not good!

"How we doing up there, Donnie?" Leo hollers up at us.

Fan-fucking-tastic! We just broke the fucking wheel to the plane and are about to nosedive straight into the fucking Amazon Rainforest. We are fucking fantastic, Leonardo!

"Uh, everything's great." Donnie calls back, clearly not great. "We're doing awesome." He says as he tosses the wheel out.

"Okay. Now what, genius?!" I scream at him.

"I don't know!" He hollers back. He looks around frantically, his gaze locking onto the stub of jagged steel where the wheel once was. With an assertive furrow of his brow, he raises an arm above his head, pulls out his electronically upgraded bo staff and shoves it straight into the broken wheel's stand. It stays, and he pulls on it with all his strength.

The jungle gets closer and closer and closer and closer. I can't take my eyes off of the blurring green of the rainforest and the shiny brown of the river below me.

Is this it?! Is this how I'm going to die?!

What once was seconds turns to long, drawn out hours as my thoughts race through my head at the speed of light, my focus on my oncoming deathbed never shifting.

If… if I'm going to die, I gotta ask: was everything I did, from surviving the treacherous woods of the unknown to ganging up with these secret mutant creatures of science fiction, worth doing? Was this journey of mine complete?

Wait! If I die, I'll never find out who I am! I'll never figure out where I came from, who my family is, what my real life was like. I'll die in this plane crash; nameless, lost, alone, and forgotten.

If that isn't scary enough, the next thought to register sends sweat prickling my spine.

Did my short life have any meaning? Did I serve my purpose? Did I fulfill some great prophecy and am about to fall to the same fate of those numerous tragic heroes in Greek Mythology who were sent on similar quests to mine?

Or did I fail it?! If I did, then would dying this way be a sort of punishment? Crashing into the Amazon with products of genetically and chemically synthesized creatures known as mutants fighting around me, only being caught in the midst of this whole fiasco and having nothing to do with it, a form of punishment? Knowing that I'm helpless and useless to these vigilantes and my failures only dragged them down with me to our demises?

Depressing, ain't it?

I know! I know! This is not the time or place to reflect past decisions or question the quality and quantity of my existence. But with Death greeting me and this plummeting plane with open arms for the ready, it's hard not to.

As my mind reels at the intensity of my thoughts, I glance over at Donnie who's still yanking on the electronic bo staff with a vice grip, lean muscles bulging on his forearms, veins dilating on his neck, eyes screwed shut.

He hasn't given up. He hasn't stopped fighting. He's not willing to die. No. He's not ready to die.

And neither am I.

I jump out of my seat and grab at a space of the staff above Donnie's clenched hands. I grind one booted foot on the floor and the other on the dismantled controls, close my eyes, and jerk the ninja weapon upwards.

I'm not going to die! Not today! And nobody on this fucking airplane is dying either!

All I see is darkness behind my clamped eyelids, but I can hear. Giant engines screech, fire crackles, smoke guffaws, wind howls, fabric flaps, Donnie screams.

If I'm going to die, I'll die doing something worthwhile.

Seconds go by. 3, 5, 10, 15, 20. I open my eyes slowly.

Are we dead?

We're not… We're not falling anymore! We're not falling anymore!!!

Instead, we race just above the Amazon River, gliding over the surface of the dirt tinted waters.

Holy fucking shit!

The plane inclines up and up and up until we're completely upside down. My legs are suddenly taken out from underneath me and I'm half thrown into the air. I hang from Donnie's bo staff, screaming as my body suspends a hundred feet over the Amazon. The plane loops nauseatingly like the world's most dangerous roller coaster until it's flying straight again and I'm sent back onto the floor of the pilot's cabin, gut knotting and feet stinging.

The aircraft bolts forward, creaking and rattling and jerking and wobbling. Donnie and I steer our makeshift wheel with all of our might, but it's like trying to wrangle a giant bull. We lose altitude, fast, and we crash straight into the river. Water surges from all sides and I'm thrown back from the cockpit, torn out of the bo staff's hold. A sudden shriek rips out of my throat as I shoot back so far and so fast I slam into the floor of the cargo hold.

OWW!

Water floods the interior of the plane before I can respond. One second I'm lying on my back praying my spine didn't shatter to bits and the next I'm submerged into the murky water of the river.

I'm thrashed and thrown through the warm currents. My body spins in the turbid brownness, my limbs being pulling into each and every direction as the water swells. Through slitted eyes, I see that said water has pushed me out of the sinking plane and into the open shallows where hunks of debris and cargo and mutant turtles float in the water, rays of sunshine beaming through the green and brown tide.

Mikey's nearby, spiraling not ten feet away from me. He catches sight of me as he stills, his cheeks puffed out with stored air, and points upwards before shooting up off of the river floor, streaking for the surface like a bullet.

It takes me a millisecond to realize that my lungs are burning in my chest, craving oxygen they've been deprived of for too long. I flap my arms furiously, pedaling my feet and arms through the rippling water until I burst out in a wave of droplets, inhaling mouthfuls of sweet, sweet air.

Note to self: Never take breathing for granted.

Wading around for a moment to get my bearings with the sun shining down on me in hot rays, I paddle my way to a bobbing, mangled box half scorched from Rocksteady's previous shooting, holding on for dear life as I take in lungful after lungful of air, soaking in the warmth of the sun and river. My dampened clothes drag at my body, weighing me down to exhaustion.

Goddamn! That was fucking intense.

The brothers come up in similar ways, spraying out of the freshwater depths and clumsily grabbing a hold of something buoyant. Their vibrant, moistened green skin gleams beautifully as if jaded with emeralds, twinkling with every heave and cough that spews from their mouths and slitted nostrils.

"Is everyone okay?" Leonardo asks aloud a few yards in front of me, his top half resting heavily on a hunk of the airplane's outer wall.

"I'm good." Mikey calls at my left, bandaged arms wrapped around a giant tire.

"I'm good." I wheeze out, hastily wiping away thick strands of freakishly long, sopping wet hair out of my face.

Another note to self: Cut hair to a reasonable length.

"I'm good." Donnie yells from atop a storage trunk. "Wait, where's Raph?"

"You guys lost him?!" I ask, flabbergasted, twisting to face the bo staff wielding brother, my spine corkscrewing painfully. "How can you lose someone as big as him? Seriously, that's like impossible." I wave my arm in emphasis, letting it splash into the water before once again hooking my fingers onto the nailed down lip of the box.

Leo turns to me. Even from where he is, his Carribean blue eyes glow against the wet, darkened cloth of his mask.

This is ridiculous! Did the mutagen change more than just their physique? Did it enhance his eyes so that they look like that? I wonder if they glow in the dark.

"Let's just say that the flight wasn't a smooth one." He says, wiping excess water from his mouth. "But I'm sure he's fine." He swivels his gaze over the jungle encircling the shore as if his brute of a brother will pop out of the greenery. As certain as he sounds, he sure doesn't look like it.

I scoff, remembering the whirlwind of cargo and mutants twirling violently through the innards of the plane, the exact opposite of "smooth". "That's for damn sure." I go to lick my lips only to taste something very weird and very distinct. The strong tang of iron makes my stomach churn and I wipe away the trickle of blood from my nose.

Goddammit! Not again!

Splashing sounds go off in front of me and I chance a glimpse to see Leo treading towards me, expertly swimming through the water like a trained diver.

Shit! He's seen it!

Knowing that I can't escape him, I duck my head so low my forehead grazes the sodden surface of the crate, my eyelashes kissing the grain of the wood pallets. His shadow casts over me before his weight dips down on the floating box, his hands on either side of my hunched form.

Oh my fucking god! I am not dealing with this! Not again!

Fed up with this bullshit, I face him head on. He rests his torso across from me, head bent down to mine. I can feel his legs sway underwater, his knees bumping into my feet every second or so.

"Are you-"

"I'm fine!" I bark out, interrupting him.

He jumps slightly, his head leaning back at my harsh words. But he remains where he is, his expression placid; calculating.

Come on! Take a hint, dude!

I groan. "Seriously, I'm fine. It's just a little blood." I swipe at my nose again, hoping the flow of crimson has at least thinned out. I turn away from him, focusing on some point off in the distance of the river and rainforest, praying that he'll go away.

Instead, he takes a deep breath, exhaling through his nostrils, the release of soft air ruffling the drying baby hairs on my forehead. "I wasn't asking about that." Says him.

I snap my attention back to him in surprise.

Is he… is he asking about how I'm doing? Like, how I'm handling this whole adventure of an operation?

Oh, I'm great! Fucking fantastic, in fact. 'I'm fine and dandy as a daisy' my ass!

What the fuck is going on?! First Mikey, then Donnie, and now Leo! All of them, one way or another, have shown that they care for me and my well being. From inviting me to bake cookies, saving me when the plane was nosediving, and now this! What's their deal? Whatever happened to them thinking that I'm some spy of their arch nemesis? Whatever happened to not trusting me? Not trusting the nut job from off the street claiming to have survived the wilderness outskirting civilization and having fucking amnesia? Like I'm worth their time and effort? Like I'm a real person they won't take advantage of and who has emotions and feelings and is actually lost and alone, caught in this mess with this bumbling band of vigilantes while on their mission to save their city and maybe the world?

It doesn't make any sense.

Before I can tell him off for giving a flying fuck about me, we're approached by a particular figure I'd rather go on living the rest of my life without ever seeing again. Bebop approaches us aloft his own mode of floating transportation, eyeing us and something ahead of us. Something square and purple, bobbing along the river carelessly.

The interdimensional portal thingamabob!

"Leo!" I yell, pointing to it. He sees it and tenses.

"Let's rumble, baby!" The warthog mutant calls from in front of us before belly flopping straight into the water, no doubt in pursuit of the contraption.

Leo turns his attention back to me, his once warm and caring persona vanquished and replaced with a cold, serious one. Like that of a man becoming a soldier in the blink of an eye. "Stay here and whatever you do, do not let go!" He unhitches himself from the crate and dives into the water.

Above me, the river turns into rapids, bubbling and foaming as water beats against rock in an epic battle. I approach it quickly, shaking violently as I fall down the mini ravine. Brown water sloshes at my sides and face, gurgling and raging as my body is bashed against boulders.

My shoulder slams into a rock.

Ouch.

My ribs slap into a fallen tree.

OW!

My chest bangs against the crate, hard.

OOOOWWWW!!!!!

Up ahead, through the spray of the choppy water, I witness the others struggle to stay afloat in the churning currents. Bebop and Leo race to retrieve the alien device, swimming through the rough fluvial and towered rocks. Donnie, still roosting on his trunk, reaches for the encased tech buoying at his feet.

"I got you! I got you!" He cries to himself. But just before his fingers can grab it, Leo's head pops out of the water, skyrocketing the device straight out of Donnie's grasp and farther upstream. "Leo! No!"

"Eyes up, Donnie!" The leader hollers back. He takes off after the glass case.

"Coming through!" Bebop screams, flapping and flailing through the thick of a miniature waterfall. He then plucks the contraption straight out of the frothing water and places it on a nearby piece of floating plane debris, hefting his broad self up onto it. "I got ya!" He cheers.

No sooner is he on his feet does Leo rupture from the raging river; a halo of droplets encompassing his form and shimmering like a glazened, mystic creature of lore; and expertly lands next to the warthog. In a flash, the leader in blue whirls in place and kicks the glowing device straight out of the criminal's hands and up into the air. He jumps, legs high, and swipes the glass case away with his foot where it sails into Mikey's arms, who sits in the center of his tire on the other side of the storming water. Or would have if he hadn't dropped it.

"I got it I got it I got it!" Mikey yelps frantically, desperately trying to steal away the device out of the spewing tide. He's just about to latch onto the thin metal frame when a wave the size of a two story house sends him flying. The tank from earlier and it's proud mutant rider, Rocksteady, blows out of the surging Amazon River like a rising monster charging for war, a tsunami erupting on all sides. Mikey is thrown out of his makeshift lazy river tube and flops into the stream while Donnie's struggling to find his balance at the sudden upsurge, arms waving around as he jumps to his feet, wobbling on a crate.

Oh my god! He's right in line with the tank's gun!!!

I go to scream for him to move only to see a blur of green and red pummel into Donnie's side, barely missing the missile that shoots out of the tank's barrel with a burst of smoke and sparks.

Thank you, Raphael. Ever the punctual turtle.

Said missile zooms overhead and into a giant tree out skirting the river and crashes into the trunk in an earth shaking explosion. The tree starts to fall, the center cracking deafeningly with resonating splintering of wood and roaring fire.

And, as luck would have it, I'm positioned right where the tree is about to land.

Oh my god! OH MY GOD!!!

"Leo!" I scream at the top of my lungs. Just as I unlatch from my crate to swim away, I'm slammed in the head and shoved under water. There's a commotion of bubbles and rushing water mixed with whipping tree branches and groves of leaves.

OW! God! My head hurts. Really bad. So bad I feel like I'm gonna pass out. Which in my case, wouldn't be the greatest thing to do right about now.

I gotta… I gotta get out of here.

I have to get out of here. Now!

But I can't. I can't get out of here. I have no strength. I have no control over my body. And I certainly have no way of moving this tree up and off of me and to the surface. All I know is that my head hurts, that there's a sinking tree laying on top of me, that my chest is burning from lack of oxygen, and… and… that it's so… peaceful.

The weightlessness of the river is almost relaxing; comfortable even, as if I'm resting on a sea of clouds instead of the bottom of the Amazon. The rushing currents are so fast and so loud, they sound almost silent and… I like it. I like the quietness of the racing water, like it's some kind of classical music. And the pain in my cranium only lessens when I close my eyes. The longer I keep them closed, the more the pain subsides. And I want to keep them closed for as long as I want, maybe never open them again…

I know that this is wrong. I know full, goddamn well that this isn't right. Not in the least.

Through heavy lidded eyes, I can see the long appendages of the fallen tree drape over my limp figure. I can see the smoke and fire from the blasted missile curl in the air through the rippling surface of the water. I can see bubbles escaping my mouth bounce over my head in spheres of silver, like lanterns floating in the midst of a tornado.

I shouldn't be doing this. I should be fighting. I should be hectically thrashing and punching and kicking the branches. I should be swimming to the surface and to the brothers and finding a way to beat Bebop and Rocksteady, retrieve the portal device, and save the world. I'm drowning for fuck's sake!!!

But… I'm so tired and… and…

Okay. So now I'm about to die. Nameless, lost, alone, and forgott… forgotte…

My eyes close slowly, the last thing I see before I slip into darkness is the vibrant blue hue of the sky shining through the rough brown of the river. It's the same color of Leonardo's eyes.

Leonardo's POV

I can't believe it. I just can't believe it! Honestly, this has to be one of the worst days I've ever experienced. Like if there was a competition to find the most horribly mismatched, floundering crime fighting teams, we'd win gold on the spot.

As if it wasn't bad enough we exposed ourselves to the New York Police Department (courtesy of Raphael), we travelled all the way to South America, battled two of Shredder's new mutant soldiers that are easily the size of monster trucks, crashed an entire cargo plane into the Amazon River, and fell down a humongous waterfall, only to have our mission blow up in our faces. And the way those two brutes just waved at us before we went over the falls; goofy grins on their gnarled, animal faces, holding up the portal device oh so gleefully as if it were some kind of trophy; really got me going.

As much as I hate to say it, Master Splinter's advice has had very little impact on our performance today. At every opportunity, one of us just had to find a way to screw things up, inevitably resulting in our tumultuous defeat.

Some team we are.

What was it that Master Splinter said? The thing about different points of view making the team stronger? Well, at this point it's doing the exact opposite. And our failure today goes to show just how much our different points of views are not contributing, but are clashing instead.

I burst out of the water, practically engulfing as much air as my lungs can take. The others come up too, treading in the shallow calm, gasping. Small waves lap at my shoulders, warm and smooth, foaming in clusters of white. It reminds me of a bubble bath, yet it does little to relax me like most signature bubble baths are known to do.

"Great work guys," I remark sarcastically. "Real team effort." I stand up, sending splashes up from the tide that now only reaches my knees. I turn away from them, downtrodden, and head up to land, my feet sloshing loudly as water cascades from my sodden shorts and flesh.

If any of the others hold anything against me for being so sour at this time, none of them say anything about it. Perhaps it's because they feel the exact same way about our supposed grand teamwork. Although I am surprised Raph doesn't take a bite and try to, oh I don't know, make it seem like it was my fault. A frequent habit of his.

Speaking of Raphael…

"Uh, guys!" Mikey pipes up all of a sudden. "Where's Raph?"

I snap my attention back to my younger brother and see for myself that our supposed muscle of the group is nowhere in sight.

Goddammit! Not again!

Didn't he come down the falls with us? If he hadn't, how'd he manage to stay up there while battling the strong current of the river? It was a struggle for all of us to even swim through all of that. Is he trying to fight Bebop and Rocksteady all by himself? Wouldn't surprise me. Where could he be?

And if Mikey's statement hadn't already got me on edge, his next one automatically stops my heart from beating in my chest.

"And the girl!" Mikey yelps, his voice iced with fear. "She's not here either!"

Oh my god!

"She's still up there?!" I retort. I can hear the panic in my tone, but I don't care. Not when she's out of my sight and in the vicinity of such danger. Especially without us! Without me!

Is she still up there? Is she with Raph? Did Shredder's henchmen snatch her out of the river and take her prisoner?

Wait! What if something's happened to her? Something bad?! Something fatal?!

I take a couple steps forward to stand shoulder to shoulder with Donnie and Mikey, the pooling lake crashing into my shins. We inspect the waterfall closely; frantic eyes shifting, nervous thoughts racing, crushing anxiety growing, the harsh sun shining, the pouring rain of hundreds of tons of brown water streaking down the mountain, thundering into the bed of boulders below.

Where could they be where could they be where could they be!

"There!" Donnie shrieks, pointing.

I follow his line of sight to a dot of brown and green plummeting down with the waterfall. I only catch a glimpse of it before it vanishes into the plumes of white spray.

That's Raph! It has to be him! It must be him!

We stand and wait, enveloped in an atmosphere of tension; anxious for our brother's arrival.

"Look!" It's Mikey's turn to point. This time, his finger aims at a swimming Raphael, a dozen or so yards away. His masked head bobs in and out of the water as he emerges from the depths of turbid brown. Something's in his arms; it's heavy, it's limp, it's motionless.

A horrid realization strikes me like a blast of lightning.

It's not a "something". It's a "someone".

Fear slams my innards and it takes every fiber in my being not to rush forward like a crazed maniac. The others join me in going after him, all of us hoping yet knowing who's in Raphael's arms while plashing feverishly. He approaches us quickly, swashing through the tidal in a hectic sprint.

"What happened?!" I shout, unable to contain my own hysteria.

"It's the kid! Damn tree fell on top of her!" He hollers back. "She's not breathing!"

Oh my god! Oh my god!

He's now in front of us, cupping the girl's body in his arms as he trudges up, his hold on her almost vice like as if he were to let go, she'd disappear in a cloud of vapor.

I crowd into Raph's side as we continue our frenzied march to the shore. I can't take my eyes off of her, even if I can't fully see her with Raph's bulbous arms barricading her figure. Her arm sways back and forth from Raphael's embrace, cold and stiff.

Raph sets her down gently as we gather around him. I get down on one knee, my clothed kneecap and toes digging into the sodden sand painfully, hovering over her. When Raph pulls away, my stomach twists into knots at the sight.

Oh my god!!!

She's completely and totally pale, her lips blue, eyes closed. Her long hair is fanned out around her head in wet locks of black. Unmoving, still as a log. Or as still as a dead body.

Oh my god! Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god!!!

"What do we do what do we do what do we do?!" Mikey screeches in front of me.

I don't look up from the lifeless girl, too enraptured in my hysteria, but I already know that Mikey's having a full blown panic attack. His baby blue eyes must be giant saucers on the brink of tears, hands clenching and unclenching at the sides of his head, shifting his weight onto the other foot every five seconds.

Gotta do something! I have to do something! Now!

Think think think think think thiiiinnnkkk!!!

"D-Donnie!" I half stutter, half scream. "What do we do?"

"Uh…" He pauses, gaze flicking as he rattles his brain.

"Come on, Donnie!" I bark. "Give me something!"

"CPR!" He blurts out.

"How do I do that?"

"30 chest compressions, close the nostrils and breath in her mouth three times. Repeat!"

I quickly position myself before the girl, kneeling down by her side completely, legs half buried in the gritty sand. My hands shake as I interlock my fingers and use the heels to press down on her sternum.

"1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9…" I whisper under my breath as I compress. My large hands take up a good portion of her upper torso, dwarfing her body as she rocks to my movements.

I don't know if I'm pressing too hard or too lightly. I need to push out the water lodged in her throat, but I can't crush her ribs.

Dammit mutagen induced super strength!

After 30, I lean my head over hers, pinch her small nose shut, and press my lips onto her open mouth. I breathe out until I see her chest rise ever so slightly before resting my head over where her heart should be, listening.

Nothing.

I breath into her mouth again and go to listen to a heartbeat, if there is any.

Nothing!

I do it again.

Still nothing!

Come on. Come on! Stay with me!

I repeat the 30 compressions, my blood pounding in my ears as the heels of my hands cram into her chest over and over.

I never look away from her face. The face I've gotten to see every minute of every hour for the past three days. The face of the little girl with amnesia. The face of the little girl who always has a snarky comment ready for the say, lopsided smirk proudly crinkled on her lips, the jagged scar on her left cheek stretching. The face of the little girl who knows of my bearings and worries, who sees past my facade of order and leadership to see the anxious little boy I am inside. The face of the little girl who has no name.

Come on!

Please please please! Please! Come back! Breath! Just breath! Please!

After another round of blowing air into her mouth and listening to a mute heart, the back of my eyes are starting to burn.

Please come back please come back please come back!

I only realize that I'm saying this aloud when Donnie speaks up.

"Leo…" he ventures quietly.

"Come on come on come on…" I hiss, my vision blurring.

"Leo. She's-"

"No." I breath into her mouth, my lips lingering before my sensitive ears desperately try to catch the smallest thump of her heart.

Still nothing!!!

"She's gone." Donnie's voice says.

"No no no no no no no…" I mumble, once again pounding my hands over her still chest.

"Leo!" Raph speaks up this time. But he sounds distant, as if he were calling to me from the end of a long tunnel.

"I'm not done!" I yell over my shoulder, blurry gaze steadfast on the girl.

Breath, dammit!

"Leo!" Raph screams, yanking me away and forcing me to face him, strong hands gripping my arms as he pulls me away from the girl. His green eyes shimmer in their sockets, his scarred mouth contorted into a grimace. "She's gone!" He stresses, shaking me vigorously as if trying to wake me up from this hellish nightmare.

But this isn't a nightmare. This is real. All of it is. The girl is real. The girl who lies colorless and in breathing is real. And she's… she's…

I release a shaky breath.

No… No! She-She can't be gone! She can't be! She can't!!!

I turn back to her. She's still not moving. Her skin and clothes shine with dampness, her head lolling to the side. She's quiet, motionless, pale…

It's not her. This isn't the girl I've come to know. This isn't the girl who rode a motorcycle into the middle of Shredder's escape. This isn't the girl that's a mystery not only to me, but to herself. This isn't the badass girl who was willing to jump out of the airplane with me and did, whooping and hollering and laughing at my side. That girl is gone. And all that's left is her body.

All I can do is hear. I can hear Mikey sob above me loudly, I can hear Donnie whimper into his hand, I can hear Raph breath choppily, I can hear the small waves crash against the shore of the Amazon River, I can hear the waterfall's violent waters sail down to earth and smash into the eroding boulders stories below it. But I can't see through the sheen of unshed tears brimming at my eyelids. I can't feel the pounding of my heart beat against my shell, but I know that hands hover over the body of the girl, quivering.

She's just a kid! She's just a kid and-and now she's… she's…

Am I crying because there's a dead body in front of me? Is it because someone I've come to know and care for lies lifeless at my knees? Or is it because I had lost the soul of a spirited young woman who's now dead? Maybe it's one of those or all of those, but only one thing is for certain: it's all my fault.

And then… oh my god! What's happening?! Did I just see her finger twitch? Did she just move?

Before I can voice my thoughts aloud, the girl; once proclaimed stone-cold dead; shoots up and spews mouthfuls of tinted water from her mouth.

Oh my-Oh my god! She's alive! She's alive!!!

She's breathing! She's coughing and blinking and moving and breathing and spluttering and vomiting and alive! She's alive!!!

On instinct, I scoot forward and place a hand on her back, the other holding her drenched hair out of her face. She stops, taking in copious amounts of oxygen, a hand pressed over her heart, a beating heart, as she looks up at us with large chocolate brown eyes.

No. Not chocolate. Russet. Dark and murky, but they glow bronze when she looks up where the sun shines on them.

Her body heaves as she inhales and exhales compulsively. She looks at each and every one of us, scanning our faces with a wide, horrified expression. She looks scared and confused.

Who could blame her?! She practically just came back from the dead!

"Are you okay?" I ask hurriedly. I let go of her tangled mesh of wet hair, hands floating around her as if waiting for her next move. Waiting for her to either stand up or fall back down again.

She turns to me slowly and although pale, her cheeks arise with a pink blush. She drags out a long huff of air through her nose.

"What-What the hell do you mean by if I'm okay?" She asks.

I blink in surprise. Although I know it's meant to be a sarcastic comment, her voice is weak and lacks the air of snarkiness she wields almost joyfully. So her statement seems hollow, out of place.

"I… I drowned and-and now I'm here so-so…" She pauses for a second, as if the news of her revival is just sinking in. But no sooner is she lost does she look back up at us, grinning feebly. "I'm f-fucking fantastic!" A small giggle escapes her dry lips and I can't help but release a short chuckle of my own.

I'm not sure if it's the actual sarcasm in her words that make me laugh or the fact that she just said that after nearly dying, but I laugh either way and I can feel the brothers smile back at her.

She goes to stand, her legs and hands trying to find a hard surface to place her weight on only for her knees to buckle. I catch her before she collapses back onto the shore. Without explanation, I scoop her up into my arms and mount to my feet. My hands encircle her small form, grains of sands impaling my palms and the water trapped in her clothes squeezes out onto my wrists. She doesn't protest against my actions.

She's alive. The girl with the scar, the amnesia, the guts, the russet brown eyes, and the mouth of a cursing sailor, is alive and well in my arms. Her large eyes beam up at me, her small hands clasping onto my shoulder.

"Let's go home." I say before walking off the short strip of beach. The others follow after me in silence.


End file.
